The life of the Chevalier Bayard

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CHEVALIER BAYARD;

Jeans jjcut et suns reiprocije."

BY W.w GMLMORE SIMMS.

And now, I dare to say, Sir Lancelot, there as thou lyest, thou were never matched of none earthly
knights' hands. And thou were the curteist knight that ever bare shield. And thou were the truest
friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou were the truest lover, of a sinful man, that ever
loved woman. And thou were the kindest man that ever stroke with sword. And thon were the good-
liest person that ever came among prece (press) of knights. And thou were the meekest man, and the
gentlest, that ever ate in hall among lad-ies. And thou were the sternfest knight to thy mortal foe that
ever put spear in rest. — Morte Arthur.

NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS.

82 CLIFF STREET.

1847.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand
eight hundred and forty-seven, by

HARPER & BROTHERS,

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District

of New York.

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THE

NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY

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1900

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TO

JOHN IZARD MIDDLETON, ESQ.,

OF SOUTH CAROLINA.

I DO not suppose, my dear Middleton, that any thing
contained in these pages will be new to you, but I
persuade myself that you will find pleasure in being
reminded of a history which, I am very sure, must appeal
to your sympathies in as great degree as to those of
any other living man. You will not be displeased, at
least, that, in pursuing the career of so perfect a char-
acter as that of the Chevalier, distinguished par excellence
as without reproach, I should, at the same time, have
naturally thought of yours.

Very faithfully,

THE AUTHOR.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE works followed and consulted in the prepara-
tion of this memoir are these :

I. " Les gestesense mble la vie du preulx Chevalier Bay-
ard, avec sa genealogie ; comparaisons aulx anciens
preulx chevaliers ; gentilx, Israelitiques et Chretiens.
En semble oraisons ; lamentations, du dit Chevalier
Bayard, contenant plusiers victoryes des Roys de
France, Charles VIII. , Loys XII., et Francoys pre-
mier de ce nom. By Symphorien Champier, Lyons,
1525." For the use of this rare and quaint old
volume, I am indebted to the unique and admirable
library of Mr. A. A. Smets, of Savannah, Geo.

II. La tres-joyeuse and plaisante histoire, composee par
le Loyal Serviteur, des faits, gestes et prouesses du
Bon Chevalier, sans peur et sans reproche. ... In the
English translation by Coleridge's daughter.

III. Histoire de Pierre Terrail, dit le Chevalier Bayard,
sans peur et sans reproche. Par Jean Cohen.
Paris, 1822.

The preceding works form the basis of mine. But
I have consulted many others, which relate to con-
temporaneous events, as well as to those in the life of
Bayard. Among these are Philip des Comines, Mon-
strelet, St. Pal aye's Ancient Chivalry, Robert Macque-
reau, Gaspard de Saulx-Tavannes, Roscoe's Leo X.,
Bacon's Francis I., Quintana's Gonzalvo de Cordova,
Hume's England, Roberts' Henry VIII., Sismondi's
and other Histories of France.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

Introduction — His Birth and Family — Choice of Arms as a Profes-
sion PAGE 1

• CHAPTER II.

Bayard enters the Service of the Duke of Savoy — Is distinguished for his
Riding — Makes the Friendship of his Comrades — Is presented to the King
of France and taken into his Service . .- ' . . . .11

CHAPTER III.

The Court returns to Lyons — Tournament appointed — How Bayard
raises Supplies — His Passage-of-Arms with the Knight Claude de Vau-
dray 21

CHAPTER IV.

Bayard joins the Garrison in Picardy — His handsome Reception — An-
nounces a Tournament — Two days' Passages-at-Arms — His Successes,
and remarkable Popularity 30

CHAPTER V.

Invasion of Italy by Charles VIII. — Conquest of Naples — Retreat from
Italy — Bayard distinguishes himself at the Battle of Fornovo . . 46

CHAPTER VI.

Louis XII. invades and conquers the Milanese — Bayard's Duel with Si-
monetta, a Knight of Milan — He visits the Duchess of Savoy — Gives a
Tournament at Carignan, and is declared the Conqueror . . .56

CHAPTER VII.

New Invasion of Milan by the French — Bayard's Defeat of the Lombards
under Cazache — Rash Pursuit and Captivity in Milan — The Fall of Lu-
dovic Sforza 69

CHAPTER VIII.

How Bayard disposed of the silver Plate of the People of Loghiera — The
French and Spaniards conquer Naples — They quarrel about the Spoil —
How Bayard conquers and makes Captive of Don Alonzo de Sotomayer 79

Vlil CONTENTS.

CHAPTER IX.

Showing how Don Alonzo de Sotomayer, admitted to the Privileges of the
Castle, proved faithless and fled ; how he was recaptured and afterward
ransomed ; how he spoke falsely of his Entertainment ; and how he fought
with Knight Bayard, and was slain in the Lists . . . . .90

CHAPTER X.

The Combat of Thirteen against Thirteen, and the Success of the Good
Knight — How the Good Knight takes a Purse after the Fashion of Knight-
hood, and what he does with it . 103

CHAPTER XI.

Disasters of the French in Italy ; their Defeat at Cerignola — The Camp
on the Banks of the Garigliano — The Defence of the Bridge by Bayard
alone against two hundred — His Pursuit of the Spaniards — His Capture,
and Rescue by his Comrades . . . . . .116

CHAPTER XII.

Defeat of the French at Garigliano — Cessation of the War — Bayard re-
turns to France — Suffers from Ague and old Wounds — Hears of new Wars
in Italy — Joins the Army — Captures a Genoese Fortress — Organizes the
French Infantry — War with the Venetians, and Battle of Agnadello 129

CHAPTER XIII.

Padua falls into Possession of the Venetians — The Emperor solicits Help
from Louis to recover it — Bayard volunteers with the Force sent — He
leads the Assault upon the Barriers at Padua, and captures them . 143

CHAPTER XIV.

Of the Bombardment of Padua, the Defences of that Place, and of the
Manner in which our Good Knight amused himself at the Expense of
Messire Lucio Malvezzo 152

CHAPTER XV.

Showing the Adventure of Bayard and his Troop against the Captains
Scanderbeg and Contarini — He makes them Prisoners, and captures the
Castle of Bassano — The Achievement of Guy Guiffray — How he captures
the Venetian Standard-bearer, and what followed thereon . .162

CHAPTER XVI.

How the Emperor discovers that the Breach is sufficiently large for the
Assault — How ingeniously he seeks to convert the French Gendarms
into Foot-Soldiers for that Purpose — What Counsel Bayard gives on the
Occasion — And how, finally, the Breach was left unoccupied . . 172

CONTENTS. IX

CHAPTER XVII.

Bayard in Command of the Garrison at Verona — How he issues forth
against Captain Manfrone — The Ambuscade of the said Captain, into
which the Good Knight falls — Of the Fight that followed thereupon — How
Bayard became a Prisoner twice in one Day — Of his Escape, and how he
smote the Infantry of the Venetians, Hip and Thigh, at Midnight . 182

CHAPTER XVIII.

How Captain Manfrone devises a precious Scheme by which to circum-
vent and capture our Good Knight — How the Secret is extracted from
the Spy ; and how Bayard plants a Snare for the Fowler, and what
ensued thereon 191

CHAPTER XIX.

Showing the Rupture of the Alliance formed by the League of Cambray
— The Capture of Legnano by the French — How Bayard goes to assist
the Duke of Ferrara — And how nearly he came, not having the Fear of
the Church in his Eyes, to capturing the Holy Father himself . . 202

CHAPTER XX.

Of the Sortie of Sir Guyon de Cantiers from Legnano, and how he perished
by the Treachery of a Spy — How the Pope, having taken Mirandola, lays
Siege to La Bastia to the great Disquiet of the Duke of Ferrara, and
how the good Knight Bayard plans a Method to relieve it and to defeat
the Besiegers . . . 214

CHAPTER XXI.

The Pope's Efforts against the French — The Agreement of Messire Au-
gustino Guerlo with the Duke of Ferrara to poison him — Denounced by
Bayard — The taking of Bologna by the French, in which Bayard distin-
guishes himself — Of the Duel between Santa Cruz and the Senor Aze-
vedo, and the Laws of the Combat 227

CHAPTER XXII.

Holy League — The Swiss — Bayard defeats them — The allies lay Siege to
Bologna — The Astrologer of Carpi — His Predictions — The Adventures
of Captain Caumont arid his Passage-at-Arms — Bologna relieved by the
Duke de Nemours 239

CHAPTER XXIII.

The Venetians capture Brescia and beleaguer the Citadel — The Duke de
Nemours marches to its Relief — Bayard at the Head of the advance Guard
encounters and defeats the Venetian Army under Gian-Paolo Baglione —
The French make an Assault upon and recapture Brescia with terrible
Slaughter — Bayard leads the Assault, and entering the Barriers at the
Head of his Men, is put Hors de Combat by the Stroke of a Pike . 251

X CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Bayard finds Shelter in the House of a noble Lady whom he protects —
The Sack of Brescia — The Visits of the Duke de Nemours to Bay-
ard— His March against the allied Army — Storms the Fortress of Russi
— Advances to Ravenna — Bayard, impatient of his Wound, determines to
join the Army — His Hostess offers him a Present by way of Ransom — He
bestows it as a Marriage Portion on her Daughters — His Departure from
Brescia 262

CHAPTER XXV.

Bayard's Counsel before the Assault on Ravenna — The French baffled in
the Assault, and draw off in consequence of the Approach of the allied Ar-
mies— Bayard instructed to skirmish with the Spaniards — His Purpose
anticipated by the Baron of Beam — What happened thereupon, and how
the said Baron was saved by Bayard from his Enemies . . . 273

CHAPTER XXVI.

Of the Battle in the Trenches before Ravenna— The Defeat of the Allies
by the French — The great Slaughter which followed, and the Death of
the gentle Duke de Nemours in the Arms of Victory, by which the Pre-
diction of the Astrologer of Carpi was made good .... 284

CHAPTER XXVII.

The French Fortunes decline in Italy — Their Troops retreat to Pavia —
Fight in the Market-Place — Expelled by the Swiss — Fight at the Bridge
over the Ticino — Bayard badly wounded — They cross the Alps — Bayard
at Grenoble, where he is greatly honored — Falls grievously sick — Prepares
for Death — Recovers and forgets his Penitence — Bayard " no Saint," but
very like one — His Generosity shown in a famous Anecdote . . 295

CHAPTER XXVIII.

War with the Spaniards in Navarre — Bayard sent against a Spanish Gar-
rison— His Lansquenets refuse to fight — He conquers the Castle without
them — What happened thereupon at a Feast — The French retreat from
Navarre — They invade the Milanese, make many Conquests, but are fi-
nally defeated by the Swiss at Novara 312

CHAPTER XXIX.

The English invade France under Henry VIII. — They besiege Therou-
enne — Bayard proposes an .Attempt upon the Army of Henry on its March
— Objected — Captures one of Henry's Apostolic Cannon — Is made Prisoner
at the Battle of Guinegatte, or the Spurs — Curious Case for the School-
men— Is admitted to parole by Henry VIII., and visits Flanders . 326

CONTENTS. XI

CHAPTER XXX.

Death of Louis XII. — Accession of Francis I. — He projects a new Attempt
upon the Duchy of Milan — Bayard is made Lieutenant-General of Dau-
phiny — Is despatched with a small Command across the Alps — Reinforced
by Troops under Chabannes, D'Aubigny, and D'lmbercourt — Surprises
and makes a Prisoner of the Lord Prospero Colonna — The Army of
France crosses the Alps by a new Route hitherto unknown . . 337

CHAPTER XXXI.

The Army of France reaches the Plains of Marignan— The French King
opens Negotiations with the Swiss — They reject the Treaty, and march
out upon the French — The Battle of Marignan, which lasts two Days
—The Peril and Adventures of Bayard— The Swiss defeated with great
Slaughter . 346

CHAPTER XXXII.

Francis I. knighted by Bayard on the Field of Battle— Maximilian takes
the Field and besieges Milan— Abandons the Siege— Bayard returns to
his Government in Dauphiny — The Imperialists invade French Territory —
Take Mouzon — Advance against Mezieres, which is defended by Bay-
ard— His Ruse — The Siege raised — He is rewarded with the Collar of St.
Michael and a Company ."..... . 356

CHAPTER XXXIII.

The French pursue the Imperialists — The War resumed in Italy — Bayard
sent to Genoa on a secret Commission — Joins the Army of Lautrec — In-
subordination of the Swiss Troops — They force the Battle of Bicocca
— The French defeated and driven from Italy — New Campaign under
Bonnivet — Bayard, against his Wish and Counsel, ordered to hold the
Village of Rebecque 372

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Barricade of Rebecque— Admirable Retreat of Bayard — He threatens Bon-
nivet— Retreat of the French Army — It is pursued by that of the Spaniards
— Bonnivet is wounded — Gives the Charge of the Army to Bayard — Bay-
ard mortally wounded by the Shot of an Arquebuse — Is laid beneath
a Tree — Takes leave of his Friends, and urges their Departure — The
Enemy approach — They hear of and lament his Fate — The Marquis of
Pescara condoles with him, and takes Care of him — Bayard's famous An-
swer to Bourbon — He dies— Is removed to Grenoble — His Character, and
the Lamentation of his Comrades .... 384

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PORTRAIT OF CHEVALIER BAYARD . . . Frontispiece.

BAYARD'S FIRST SPECIMEN OF HORSEMANSHIP . . PAGE 1

BAYARD SMITING THE SHIELD OF CLAUDE DE VAUDRAY . 21

BAYARD AND THE LADY OF FLUXAS . . . . .56

DUEL BETWEEN BAYARD AND ALONZO DE SOTOMAYER . . 90
BAYARD LEADING HIS TROOPS THROUGH A MORASS AT THE
BATTLE OF AGNADELLO . ..... 129

THE YOUNG ARCHER AND THE VENETIAN PRISONER . . 162
BAYARD AND THE SPY ........ 191

THE PREDICTION OF THE ASTROLOGER OF CARPI . . . 239
BAYARD AND HIS HOSTESS AT BRESCIA ..... 262

FUNERAL OF THE DUKE DE NEMOURS ..... 295

BAYARD AND THE LANSQUENET ...... 312

THE BATTLE OF MARIGNAN 346

DEATH OF BAYARD 384

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LIFE OF BAYARD,

CHAPTER I.

IT was at a time when chivalry was at its lowest condi-
tion in Christian Europe; when the fine affectations of the
order, erring always on the side of generosity and virtue —
its strained courtesies, its overwrought delicacies, its ex-
travagant and reckless valor — every thing, in short, of that
grace and magnanimity which had constituted its essential
spirit and made of it a peculiar institution — had given way
to less imposing and less worthy characteristics ; when,
ceasing to be the distinguishing boast of courtliness and
noble blood, it had yielded on every hand, in Spain, in
France, England, Italy and Germany, to a growth of the
grossest passions, a disregard of the point of honor and of

A

2 FIDELITY AND MODESTY.

those pledges of faith which it had been the great end of
chivalry to maintain, at every hazard, as the first tests of
courtesy and manhood, — it was even at such a time that
the now decaying institution was destined to furnish to the
world the happiest illustration, in a single great example,
of its ancient pride and character, and of those virtues
which had made it fruitful of good to humanity, in spite of
many curious anomalies. The name of the Chevalier Bay-
ard has grown into proverbial identification, in modem
times, with all that is pure and noble in manhood, and all
that is great and excellent in the soldier. It is not that he
ranks among brave men as one wholly without fear in bat-
tle. This character would scarcely afford him, in a period
wholly given up to war, and remarkable for its sanguinaiy
conflicts, any very peculiar distinction. That he had the
virtue of a rare courage, in its utmost perfection, is undeni-
able ; but the equally distinguishing and more beautiful
qualities of his heart, accord him an eminence among his
contemporaries which none has ever presumed to question.
lie was not only the Chevalier sans peur, but sans reproche
also ; so equally good and brave that his character furnish-
es the most admirable model to the generous ambition of
the young that we find in all the pages of history. His
valor he shared, in a great measure, with his associates; but
his truth and fidelity were singularly his own. His period
was one distinguished for its small possession of faith and
virtue. It was a time exemplary for its treacheries, par-
ticularly among the great. To deceive and to betray, were
practices too common among nobles and princes, to make
these offences against virtue any longer odious in the sight
of men ; and the perfidy which was taught to Italy, not less
by her seeming necessities than by the subtle studies of her
statesmen, had become wide-spread lessons for the misdi-
rection of the whole civilized world. Breathing this very
atmosphere for a considerable period of his life, the nature
of Bayard imbibed none of its unwholesome influences.

GRACE AND GENEROSITY. 3

He still kept the whiteness of his soul free from spot, in
spite of the contagion in which he lived. His fidelity and
truth soon grew to be as remarkable as his valor, and his
talents for war were no less conspicuous than these. Yet
these talents never urged him to any of that undue self-es-
teem which makes the highly endowed person recoil from
the command of others. His possessions were tempered
by a wonderful modesty, which taught him the propriety
of submission to his superiors. Obedience, indeed, as the
first duty of the soldier, was a lesson which he had happily
learned when alone it can be properly acquired — in the days
of his youth. This lesson gave stability to the native vir-
tues of his character, and forms one of the distinguishing
traits in his high reputation. Never was hero more unself-
ish. His generosity and disinterestedness, struggling stead-
ily against his successful valor, left him always poor while
in the constant acquisition of money. He gave as rapidly
as he gained, and, in conferring favors upon his friends and
followers, he frequently denied himself the means for en-
countering his own necessities. True to his word, his en-
emies, equally with his friends, yielded every where the most
ready faith to all his assurances. He was scarcely less lib-
eral to the one than the other. His captive, whom he al-
ways treated with kindness and courtesy, went forth fre-
quently without ransom, while his acquisitions were made
the means for serving his companions, and for exhibitions
of chivalrous pageants, which drew together all young and
ambitious cavaliers, emulous of gallant trophies to be distrib-
uted by the hands of beauty. And, in all these relations,
nothing could exceed the sweetness and nobleness of man-
ner for which Bayard was remarkable. His successes, his
high fame, never made him regardless of the claims of others.
He never haughtily presumed upon his superiority nor
abused its advantages, but, deferring gently to the inferior,
he made his way to all hearts, and, with the virtues of a
Scipio blended the graces of an Alcibiades. Admirable in

4 BAYARD'S MAXIMS AND VIRTUES.

council, his opinions won their way to the understandings
of his hearers by their native justness, urged without pre-
sumption, and enforced by that modest deference with
which he first listened to the thoughts of others. Always
solicitous of gallant undertakings, he betrayed no disquiet
if their results enured to the renown of rivals. His moral
sense was singularly sound and reflective. He often said,
" The best lordship is the communion with virtuous per-
sons ; the greatest evil to a lord is in the counsels of igno-
rant and vicious men, as there is nothing more dangerous
than audacity when unsustained by wisdom." A gentle-
man once asked him, " What goods a noble man should
leave to his children 1" " Those," he answered, " which
fear neither rain nor storm, nor human injustice, nor all the
power of man — wisdom and virtue." His maxims were
illustrated by his life. His respect and admiration for the
sex prompted him to the frequent tournament. The lady
whose colors he wore might safely repose as well upon his
loyalty as his valor and skill. Modesty and innocence never
looked to him in vain. It will be our province, in the course
of this history, to give one curious example of his generos-
ity in this respect. His sympathies were always given to
the good ; his succor gladly sustained the weak ; his boun-
ty helped the indigent. He alleviated, where he could,
the miseries of war, over which he mourned with earnest
commiseration. To complete the beauties of his charac-
ter, his piety was deep and unaffected. He enjoyed, with-
out any of the enfeebling superstitions of his age, a pro-
found sense of his obligations to the Deity, and an abiding
confidence in the saving mercies of Jesus Christ. His
morning began, and his evening closed, with prayer. He
prepared himself for battle by becoming devotions, recom-
mending his soul to God, and invoking the pardon of his
sins. His life, indeed, furnishes an admirable example to
the soldier, of a career in which the most heroic valor may
be blended with the most gentle virtues, with mildness of

HIS PARENTAGE 5

temper, sweetness of demeanor, generosity without display,
and the most humble submission to human and Divine au-
thority. True to his God, his country, and his duty, he
found it no ways arduous to share in the vicissitudes of war
and the incongruous associations of the camp, without
yielding to the brutalities of the one, or partaking of the ex-
cesses of the other. As a partisan warrior, he was, per-
haps, one of the greatest captains that France has ever pro-
duced— eager and watchful, observant every where, always
secure against surprise himself, and always prompt to seize
upon the error of his enemy. Considered in every point
of view, we are constrained to affirm the spontaneous judg-
ment of his contemporaries, who knew him provei'bially as
the " Good Knight," and in the comprehensive surname of
the Chevalier, sans peur et sans reproche, have left to us the
model of a perfect character, with which none among them-
selves could presume to compare. It is for us now, from
the too meagre chronicles, to procure the proofs upon which
this noble reputation rests.

The House of Terr ail, to which Bayard owes his origin,
was one of the most ancient in the province of Dauphiny.
It was well placed at the extremity of the beautiful valley
of Gresivaudan, wrhich Louis XI. used to call the Garden
of Dauphiny, and his fourth wonder. The lords of Terrai!
had been distinguished from the earliest periods by their
valor and intrepidity. His grandsire of the fifth remove,
Aubert, was mortally wounded at the battle of Varces ;
Robert, the son of Aubert, was killed in the service of the
Dauphin ; Humbert the First, in an action with the Sa-
voyards ; Philip, the grandfather of Bayard in the third re-
move, perished at the feet of King John, at the fatal battle
of Poictiers ; Pierre, his great-grandfather, was killed at
Agincourt; the brother of this Pierre perished in the fight
of Vermeuil, in 1224, where no less than three hundred of
the Dauphinese gentry — called by way of honorable dis-
tinction, " The Scarlet of France" — lost their lives. His

A*

6 HIS MOTHER.

grandfather, who was called Pierre also, maintained the
military distinction of the family, and acquiring great credit
in the wars with the English, gained the surname of L'Epee
Terrail — the sword of the House of Terrail. He was hon-
ored with the respect and friendship of Charles VII., whom
he served with tried fidelity. He contributed more than
any other individual to the defeat of Louis of Chalons,
Prince of Orange, at the battle of Auton ; and when the
Dauphin, afterward Louis XL, presumed to claim his in-
dependence, and to assert the rights of a sovereign in Dau-
phiny, our Lord of Terrail, ha.ving no fear of the future,
adhered faithfully to the monarch, and was fortunate, by
this manly fidelity, not to forfeit the respect and confidence
of the young prince, whom it was not always safe to offend.
This brave chieftain shared the fate of his ancestors, and
died on the field of battle at Montlhery. Aymond, his son,
and the father of him whose biography we write, followed
the example of his house, and in good season took the pro-
fession of the soldier. At the mature term of sixty-five

«•

we find him in the battle of Guinegate, disabled from all
future conflicts by four wounds, by which he lost the use
of his arms.

Helene des Allemans, the mother of Bayard, is described
as exceedingly small of person, but of great heart and in-
trepid spirit. In one respect she differed largely from her
husband, who is represented as of great stature and vigor-
ous frame. Our hero shared the characteristics of both.
Honorably descended, and with an unbroken series of good
examples before him, of courage, conduct, and fidelity, his
own nature seemed destined, even at an early period, to
embody and to perfect all the virtues of his race. If it is
greatly honorable to found an illustrious family, it is no less
meritorious to maintain its character, and finish nobly its
career. This destiny was reserved for Bayard. He was
born, the second of four sons, in 1476, in the castle the
name of which he bears. His father, at the mature age of

CHOOSES THE PROFESSION OF ARM3. 7

eighty, and when Bayard was only thirteen, finding his end
approaching, called his children to his bedside, and exam-
ined them as to their choice of vocation. While two of the
brothers declared for the church, and one of them for the
homestead, Bayard boldly avowed his passion for the camp.
He was a lively lad, of playful disposition, gay as a lark,
and with an open, laughing countenance. But the face and
manner of the boy served only to conceal, not to impair,
the \visdom of a far maturer period. His answer was ex-
pressed with sufficient gravity. " I should like to remain
with you, my father, to the end of your days ; but your own
discourses, daily, in my hearing, of the noble men by whom
our house has been distinguished in times past, leads me
to desire, with your permission, that I may also embrace
the profession of arms. This is the pursuit which I most
affect, and I hope, with the grace of God, to do you no
dishonor."

The tears of the old man followed this speech. It prob-
ably met all his expectations, and may have been the anti-
cipated fruit of his own training. " God grant that it may
be so, my son. Already in face and figure thou lookest like
thy grandsire, who was one of the best knights in Christen-
dom. I will put thee in the way of obtaining thy desire."

We need not linger for the answers of the remaining
brothers. They did not share in the military tastes of
Bayard. These, in him, were quite too decidedly ex-
pressed to be mistaken. It is true he had shown nothing
of that fierce, unrestrainable temper, which is supposed to
mark the character of those who incline to arms at an early
period. Though eager, his moods were mild — though firm,
his bearing was always gentle. He was the slave to no
reckless passions, and his will, except in this one respect,
was prompt in submission to that of his superiors. It was
fortunate that the views of his father seem to have kept
pace with his own ; or, with so strong a desire for arms, he
might, for the first time in his life, have shown himself insub-

8 FAMILY ASSEMBLAGE.

ordinate. In the direction his infant mind had taken, he
was fully resolved. He obeyed an instinct. It was not
that he chose war as his vocation — the vocation had chosen
him. His natural endowments required him to go and be
a soldier, and the stories which he daily heard of the
achievements of his ancestors but strengthened his desire
for the performance of his duties. His father did not hes-
itate. He sent for the Bishop of Grenoble, the uncle of
the boy, and gathered the gentry of the neighborhood
around him. The affair was one of solemn import. It was
no less than the dedication of his son to the country, and
the matter needed deliberation. The aged man sat like a
patriarch, with his friends and children grouped around
him. Dinner was served to the guests, and Bayard offi-
ciated as a waiter. This custom, which would in our day
equally offend the father and the son, was, in that, one of
the essential features in the training of the young man am-
bitious of distinction. It was no bad way, we may add,
for securing the object of desire. It taught obedience to
authority, veneration for age and superiority, and a patient
submission to the will of others. These are the great and
necessary lessons by which the otherwise impeiious nature
is rendered methodical and endued with the requisite
strength for the due endurance of the unavoidable evils of
life.

When dinner was over, the patriarch declared the busi-
ness which had led to the assembling of his guests. " You
are all," said he, " my relatives and friends. Give me your
counsel as to the disposition of my children. Pierre, my
second, has given me inexpressible delight, in declaring
his preference for arms. In whose house shall I place him
— to what noble prince or lord shall I confide him, in order
that he should acquire a proper deportment, and prepare
himself for this profession]"

Various was the counsel. One was for sending him to
the King of France ; another, to the House of Bourbon.

FATHER'S COUNSEL. 9

But the Bishop of Grenoble recommended the Duke of
Savoy, who had always been a friend of the family, and
who was then in the neighborhood, at Chambery. It was
thought that the duke would not hesitate to adopt him as
one of his pages. The advice was taken, and the tailor
was kept busy with velvet and silks all night to make our
young page ready in the morning. There were no long
delays in that period ; and the moment breakfast was over,
the next day, the horse was brought, and all the company
went forth into the court of the castle, to see what sort of
figure Bayard would make in appealing before the duke.
The horse was one which he had never crossed before; —
but the boy was fearless. He leapt boldly upon the steed,
which, accustomed to a weightier burden, and suddenly
pricked by the spurs of his new rider, dashed away with
an impatience of spirit which alarmed the family for the
safety of the youth. But it was with the spirit of an Alex-
ander that our Bucephalus of Dauphiny had to contend.
While the company were looking to hear the boy cry out
in apprehension, he bestrode the animal, not only without
fear, but with such a triumphant courage as to change their
doubts into delight and admiration. He struck the rowel
into the flanks of the beast, set him off in rage, and brought
him back in docility and foam, as effectually mastered as
if he had been his rider for twenty years.

The old father was happy beyond expression. " What !
you are not afraid ]" he said to his son, when he had re-
turned from his gallop. " I hope," said the boy, " before
six years be gone, to make him, or another, bestir himself in
a more dangerous place. Here I am among friends. I shall
then probably find myself among the enemies of my mas-
ter." At parting, the father gave him his blessing, and, in
few words, exhorted him to be faithful to the prince he
served, never to forget that his natural sovereign was the
King of France, and never to bear arms against him or
against his country. His pride kept down all other feel-

10 ADVICE OF THE MOTHER.

ings. But there was no restraint of this sort upon his
mother, who did not seek to conceal her tears. Not that
she had any misgivings, or felt any dislike to the profession
he had chosen. She was proud of the boy, and not un-
willing that he should engage in a career, of which his
youthful promise showed such grateful auguries, and which
had already been so honorable to his ancestors. But, in
spite of these feelings and connections, the mother declared
herself warmly in the tenderness with which her parting
charge was given him. " Pierre, my son," she said, "you
are going into the service of a noble prince : now, as much
as a mother can command her child, look, there are three
things which I commend to you. First, you love and serve
God in all things without offending him ; night and morn-
ing recommend yourself to him. He gave us all that we
have, and without him we can do nothing. He will aid
you. Second. — Be you mild and courteous to all, casting
away pride. Be humble and obliging. Be not a liar nor
a slanderer. Be temperate in eating and drinking. Avoid
envy — it is a mean excess. Be neither talebearer nor flat-
terer— such people never excel. Be loyal in word and
deed. Keep your promise. Succor the widow and orphan,
and look for your reward to God. The third is, be bounti-
ful to the poor and needy. To give for the honor of God
makes no man poor — your alms will profit your body and
soul. Go now, my son, this is all with which I have to
charge you. Your father and I shall not live long, but God
grant that while we do live we may hear nothing but good
of you."

The answer of Bayard was appropriate, but brief. The
farewell was soon over, and, with a change of linen, and a
little purse containing six crowns in gold, which his moth-
er at the close of her advice bestowed upon him, our hero
departed, in the company of his uncle, " thinking himself,"
in the language of one of his early biographers, " in Para-
dise, while on the back of his good steed."

CHAPTER II.

THE course of the Bishop of Grenoble lay for Chambery,
a town within his diocese. Here, also, for the time, the
Duke of Savoy resided. The bishop did not at first pre-
sent his charge to the duke, but waiting for the next day,
which was Sunday, called upon him on his way to church,
at which he was to officiate. The service over, the bishop
dined with the duke, whose eyes were insensibly drawn to
the graceful carriage and modest bearing of Bayard, who
waited upon his uncle during the feast, as he had done the
day before at home. " My Lord of Grenoble," said the
prince, " who is this young child who gives you to drink V
11 He is one, my lord, whom I have brought to enter your
service as a man of arms, if you please. He is not now in
the condition in which I am desirous to give him to you.
After dinner, if it be your pleasure, you shall see him."
The behavior of the boy had already found favor in the
eyes of the duke. " Truly," he exclaimed, " he must be a
strange person who should refuse such a present." Dis-
missed to his own repast, Bayard ate little. He was too
eager for the promised presentation ; and, getting his horse
saddled, and himself in readiness, he soon made his appear-
ance in the court of the palace. The duke, from his galle-
ry, beheld the entrance of the boy, his horse bounding and
curvetting beneath the spur of his rider, who kept his seat
with a bearing as firm and confident as if he had been a
man of thirty, who had seen battles all his life. The duke
was delighted with his acquisition. " Verily," he exclaimed,
" this boy is to become a man. I accept him willingly.

12 TRAINING OF CHIVALRY.

Your present, my Lord of Grenoble, is a good and hand-

some one."

Bayard was placed in charge of one of the most faithful
of the duke's equeries. He was now to be trained to
serve and to perform. We have all some general idea of
the sort of training which was considered necessary to pre-
pare the page to become the man-at-arms. In the modern
period of which we write, the scheme of training had be-
come far less rigorous than it was when chivalry was in
fashion. Still, as it contemplated the duties of the soldier,
it was moderately severe and rigid. The education was
calculated to make the pupil manly and robust, to practice
him in the use of his weapons, and to exercise him in
horsemanship. To wait and to obey, required a term of
years, and this was the apprenticeship. Though the duties
were humble, and the superior exacting, there was nothing
degrading in the situation. It was regarded rather as
highly becoming and honorable, being held absolutely es-
sential to future usefulness and distinction. It was the
ordeal through which only was the novitiate to rise. The
page performed the duties of a domestic. He attended his
master in his walks and wanderings, bore his messages, fol-
lowed him in the chase, and poured out for him the drink
at table. He was taught by the conversation of his supe-
riors, and this constant attendance afforded as constant op-
portunities for the acquisition of knowledge and just opin-
ion. In this school he was taught good manners and im-
bued with elevated and refined tastes. Lessons, in partic-
ular, were regularly given in matters of religion — the love
of God was specially insisted on, and, with scarcely less
earnestness, the love of women, and a pure respect and de-
votion for the sex. The youth was required to choose
from the young damsels of the court one to whom he could
refer his sentiments and thoughts. She was the immediate
image, symbolical of the pure and delicate, which, in the
moment of action and difficulty, became at once obvious to

EXERCISES OF CHIVALRY. 13

his mind and eye. These associations taught decorum and
gentleness of manners, which were among the essential
requisites of perfect knighthood. Leisure for sports of va-
rious kinds was accorded to the pages, and the games in
which he exercised were made to operate in his moral and
physical instruction. These were usually of a manly char-
acter, calculated to provoke emulation, and to impart vigor
and elasticity. The objects of the school being understood,
it will not be difficult to conceive the various processes em-
ployed, by which such objects were to be attained. To the
young and ardent spirit, eager for glory, and burning to
ascend the heights of distinction, the ordeal was at once in-
oppressive and exacting. To Bayard, already in great
part trained by the lessons of his father, and the contem-
plation of the histories of all his ancestors, the duties of his
new life were comparatively easy. He soon won the heart
of the equerry who had been assigned him, and the hearts
of all others who beheld his docility, the meekness of his
temper, the purity and truthfulness of his soul. The youth,
his companions — the servants, his attendants — the knights, his
superiors — all, in short, with whom he came in connection,
grew subject to the rare fascination with which he con-
trived to spell the affections. Never did pupil do more honor
to his master. He remained with the Duke of Savoy but
six months, doing ample justice to his service. In this pe-
riod he learned to excel all his associates, without offend-
ing their pride or provoking their enmity. In leaping, run-
ning, wrestling, hurling the bar and horsemanship, he won
the prize from all competitors, noble and simple. When
the old chronicler tells us that " he was serviceable to the
lords and ladies, even to a marvel," we perceive, in some
measure, the secret of his success ; since, to become grate-
fully useful to those around us, is to exhibit the surest sign
of affection, and to practice the happiest benevolence.
Winning the esteem of lords and ladies by his grace and
docilitv, and the attachment of his inferiors by his affable

«/ *

B

14 THE PAGE IN LOVE.

sweetness of demeanor, he soon succeeded in making an-
other conquest — that of a sweetheart. The personal ap-
pearance of our page, at this period, is described by his
biographer as not unworthy of his bearing and his charac-
ter. His person was erect and tall, and his carriage was
easy and full of grace. His features were sweet and be-
nignant, his eyes black and full of fire, his nose aquiline,
his skin fair and smooth, and of fine complexion, and his
hair, which he wore short, of a rich chesnut-color. In all
respects he was the person tro persuade and please the eyes
of a lady.

Among the damsels who were attached to the court of
the Duchess of Savoy, bearing a like relation to that dame
with that of the page to the duke, there was one nearly the
same age with Bayard. She was of noble family, but
without fortune. But she had all besides which could win
the regards of a warm and affectionate nature. She was
amiable and lovely, and possessed of numerous accom-
plishments. She was among the first to become conscious
of the noble qualities of our page. He, too, very soon dis-
covered the impression which he had made upon her. To
be loved at all, by one equally beautiful and virtuous, is
enough to affect favorably the heart of a boy ; and from the
moment that he made his discovery, the thoughts of young
Bayard ran upon nothing so much as the maiden. His
usual exercises, his most favorite sports, were neglected,
and he soon contrived a meeting in secret with his little
lady. The school in which they were mutually taught had
rendered easy the expression of his attachment ; but it was a
school in which the passions were not enlivened at the ex-
pense of the principles. Bayard had been too well tutored
by his parents to harbor any but the purest sentiments,
and, precocious as he was in these, he had received no im-
pelling suggestions of evil from any other source. Without
a thought but that of simple devotion, the boy threw him-
self at the feet of the girl and poured forth the most

THE MAIDEN'S COUNSEL. 15

tender assurances of love. She answered him with tears,
and with an avowal of her own affections. But she was
more prudent than her lover, and asked mournfully to what
his boy-passion would conduct. " 1 am young," said Bay-
ard, "but I am animated with a passion for glory as well
as for yourself. I will make myself famous, and when I
have acquired distinction by my exploits, I will return and
make you my wife." The noble little damsel was gener-
ous in her sentiments. " Alas !" she said, " we must not
entertain such projects. I am without fortune, and you
may reasonably pretend to the greatest. In accepting your
affections, I destroy your hopes. That I love you, I can
not disguise ; but let us subdue the sentiment, for our mu-
tual sakes, to a sincere and tender friendship. This senti-
ment will bring us no reproaches." The ardent boy would
have caught her in his arms ; but the circumspect little
maiden reproved the rashness in her prettiest manner.
" Do not forget, dear Terrail, what is due to a young crea-
ture who is the protegee of the duchess." The words in-
stantly restrained the impulse of the enamored youth. The
instinct of duty and propriety at once brought him to his
senses — " I will violate no hospitality — I will not forget
what is due to the noble benefactors whom we serve, nor
be wanting in respect to the being that I love ; but I will
not for this renounce my hope. I will speak to the duch-
ess, declare my love, and implore her sanction of a flame
as warm as it is pure."

But fate interposed to thwart the gallant purpose of our
page. That very evening, the Duke of Savoy gave orders
to prepare the next day to depart for Lyons, where he was
to join the king. Bayard was required to accompany him.
But a single opportunity was afforded him for speaking
with the duchess, and his heart failed him at the proper
moment. The chance was never given him again. The
next day saw him on the road to Lyons, where Charles
VIII., a feeble but ambitious monarch, was making merry

10 ATTRACTS THE EYE OF THE COUNT DE LIGNY.

with his courtiers. Each day was distinguished by tilt and
tourney ; and, deficient in many of the higher qualities of the
sovereign, it is but just to accord to this prince the merit
of being a good companion, affable among his noblesse, and
indulgent to his people. His ambition led him to attempt
objects which his feeble will and intellect never suffered
him to attain. He had the vanity to emulate the career
of Charlemagne, and to attempt the conquest of foreign
countries, when the peaceful tourney should have satisfied
him in his own.

Hearing of the approach of the Duke of Savoy, Charles,
with whom he was a favorite, dispatched the Count de
Ligny, with an escort of gentlemen, to meet and conduct
him to his presence. The eyes of the count were very
soon drawn to the peculiar elegance of our page's horse-
manship. " Your page rides a steed of mettle, and knows
how to manage him deftly." " It is but half a year that I
have had. him," was the answer of the duke, " and he had
then just left school ; yet never have I seen a lad of his age
who carried himself more manfully either on foot or horse-
back. He comes of a bold and spirited race, and he will
take after them." Then, speaking to Bayard, he com-
manded him to give his horse the spur. Our page desired
nothing better, and proceeded to exhibit such feats of
horsemanship as compelled the admiration of the company.
" On my faith," said the Count de Ligny, " this young gen-
tleman will become a noble gallant, if he lives. You will
do well, my lord, to present both horse and rider to the
king." " On my soul," said the duke, " since you advise,
it shall be done. I love the youth, but could not confide
him to a better school than that of the Court of France."

The day following, the king entertained the duke at din-
ner, together with the lords of Ligny and Avennes. During
the repast, the discourse turned upon dogs and horses, love
and war, the chase and deeds of arms. The occasion re-
minded the Count de Ligny of the performance of Bayard.

THE KING DEMANDS TO SEE HIM. 17

" Sire." said he, " I swear to you on my fay that my lord
of Savoy hath a mind to give you a page who rides a steed
as well as ever I saw youth in my life. He is not more
than fourteen years old, yet he manages his horse like a
man of thirty. If you will be pleased to go and hear ves-
pers at Esnay, you shall have some pleasure in beholding
him." The king, who was too devout a Christian to swear
any but a pretty little oath, exclaimed, " By the faith of my
body, I am willing. But, cousin," to the Duke of Savoy,
" whence got you this proper page whom our cousin of
Ligny speaks of?" He was answered, and the duke was
no ways slow to insist upon the remarkable merits of
the boy. Bayard was not present at this conversation,
but it soon reached his ears, for his comrades loved him too
well to withhold any news which might gratify his ambition.
It would have delighted him less to have gained the whole
city of Lyons. He at once hurried to the head groom of
the stable, Pison de Chenas, and said to him, " Friend
groom, they tell me that the king wills to see my horse af-
ter dinner, and me thereon. Now, I pray you to put him
in proper order, and I will give you my short dagger, with
all my heart." " Nay, keep your truncheon," said the
groom, writh whom he was a favorite as with all the rest.
" Do you go and get yourself in trim, and your horse will
be in readiness. God give you this fortune, my friend, that
the King of France may take you into favor, so that you
may arrive at a high preferment. Some time or other,
when you are a great lord, I may find my account in it."
" On my faith, master," said the youth, " I shall never for-
get your kindness and good lessons ever since I have been
in the household of my lord, and if God ever do bring me
to preferment, you shall be made sensible of my remem-
brance." A few hours brought him a summons to attend
the king, to whom the duke had presented him, and who
wished to see his performance in the meadow of Esnay.
The messenger was that same equerry to whom the duke

T,*

18 IS TAKEN INTO THE KING'S SERVICE.

had "given the page in charge when he first entered the
service of the former. He, too, had grown affectionately
fond of his pupil, and he conveyed his message in tones of
real disquietude. " It is not that I grieve at your advance-
ment, my fiiend, but that we are to part with you." Bay-
ard replied to him with a grateful heart, thanked him for
all his past instructions, and pledged himself neither to be
ungrateful for, nor unworthy of them.

There was no time for delay. The king had gone by
water on the Saone, with the duke and their respective
suites. The first object that drew his attention as he
reached the land was our page on horseback, in charge of
the equerry. He, like all the rest, was struck by the per-
fect grace and the consummate address of this youthful
squire, and as Bayard subdued his steed to a pause, the
delighted king cried out to him across the plain, to give the
animal the spur, and renew his exercise. There needed no
second summons. The young cavalier yielded the bridle
to the straining neck of the horse as he sent him headlong
forward under the sharp urgency of the spur, took the
circuit of the plain, made him take several leaps, and dart-
ing at full gallop toward the king, stopped him short with
a curvet, at a proper distance from the royal person.

Charles was delighted beyond measure, and exclaimed
to the Duke of Savoy, " Cousin, it is impossible to do bet-
ter." Turning to Bayard, he said, " Again the spur — spur
him again ;" and the surrounding pages, echoing the king's
words, cried, " Spur, spur — piquez, piquez" so frequently,
that the surname of Piquet was for some time after fas-
tened upon our hero. His second performances were equal
to the first. " All is true," said the king to the duke, " that
my cousin of Ligny told me. I will not wait till you give
me your page and horse — T beg them at your hands."
" The master himself is yours," answered the duke, " and
the rest may well be so. God give the boy grace to do
you some Great service." " It is impossible," replied the

IS MADE A MAN-AT-ARMS. 19

king, " tnat he should not become a man of worth. Cousin
of Ligny, I put the page under your care." The count
was grateful for a commission which promised to do him
honor. He placed the boy among his pages, and, during
the three years in which he held this position, he succeed-
ed in gaining for himself the affections of the new house-
hold as certainly as he had won those of the duke's. The
count himself became sincerely attached to him, and his
confidence in his future greatness was increased and con-
firmed by the daily development of his various qualities of
gentle and noble heart, and generous, ingenuous nature.
When he was but seventeen, he was raised to the station of
man-at-arms, and took his place in the company under the
immediate command of the Count de Ligny. This promo-
tion did not imply a place simply in the army. In the case
of Bayard, it was the rank of a gentleman of the household,
about the immediate person of his captain — a post equiv-
alent to that of the aide-de-camp of modern times, with this
addition, that the man-at-arms, in turn, held his immediate
retainers, the number being regulated by royal ordinance,
and varying according to circumstances, under the several
decrees of the king. For this the knight paid as for a license,
the amount of fine or assessment going to the public reve-
nue. The force thus allotted to a lance, or man-at-arms,
was of a mixed character, so as to represent most of the
several elements of an army. He himself bore lance and
sword, or battle-ax, and, in the time of Bayard, was follow-
ed by three archers, a page and an esquire. One hundred
lancers thus implied six hundred men, and fifteen compa-
nies of a hundred lancers each, made a select body of nine
thousand troops. To be a man-at-arms was a much-desired
privilege at this period, as it was seldom given but to favor.
It was sought with eagerness by the gentry, and numerous
volunteers, from the class of wealthy plebeians, augmented
the ranks as volunteers, with the hope that, by gallant per-
formances, they might be admitted to supply the vacant

20 THE MAN-AT-ARMS.

places. The corps constituted an aristocracy, proud of its
distinction and jealous of its reputation. This feeling con-
tributed to its high renown. During the reign of Charles
VIII. and his immediate successor, it was considered in
some sort invincible. It will be seen how much our youth-
ful hero contributed, by his personal prowess, to this grate-
ful reputation.

CHAPTER III.

CHARLES was absent from Lyons some three years, mak-
ing the tour of his realm. Meanwhile, our page prospered,
as we have seen — gradually passing into a premature man-
hood, and acquiring the trusts which belong only to that
character. When the king returned to Lyons, there was
naturally a resumption of all the courtly pleasures and pas-
times which made him a favorite with his people in spite of
his many royal deficiencies. Among the events which oc-
curred to increase the animation of the Lyonese, after the
return of the court, was the appearance among them of a
celebrated Burgundian cavalier, named Claude de Vaudray.
He was a knight of extraordinary address in arms, who
loved nothing better than to display his ability. He de-
manded of the king a tournament, by which to occupy his
young noblesse, and keep them from idleness and rust
The king, whose piety did not interfere either with his

22 CLAUDE DE VAUDRAY.

pleasures or his ambition, and who loved the sports of chiv-
alry as becoming images of war, readily gave ear to the
application. The tourney, as arranged by Claude de Vau-
dray, who was well skilled in all such matters, was to con-
sist of several courses of knights on horseback, and com-
bats between foot and horse, with the lance and battle-ax.
Those who desired to prove their courage and skill had
nothing to do but to enter the arena where the gentleman
of Burgundy had hung up his shield, awaiting the chal-
lengers ; to touch it with the hand or lance, and send in
his name to the master of the tourney.

Our man-at-arms passed before the shields with mo-
mently-increasing interest. He stood before that, in par-
ticular, which belonged to Claude de Vaudray, with eyes of
longing and despondency. His meditations were sufficient-
ly discouraging. To touch the shield was easy enough, but
the conditions of chivalry were such as to put entirely out
of the question the claims of a gallant who could not ap-
pear in certain style and with a certain equipage. Bravery
was a term in that day of a twofold signification. The
knight must not only be, but he must look brave ; and the
pomp and splendor of the exhibition made no small part
of the attraction among the spectators. Our man-at-arms,
with a small stipend nicely calculated for his absolute ne-
cessities, was without the means to furnish himself with the
appointments proper to the combat. Armor, and fine
clothes, and horses, were essential before he could pre-
sume to take his station with the ambitious company which
Claude de Vaudray had gathered around him. His melan-
choly drew the notice of one of his companions, named
Pierre de Bocquieres, lord of Bellabre — a gentleman, like
himself, of the suite of the Count de Ligny, a very brave
fellow, and one whom Bayard had inspired with a very
warm attachment which continued through his life. " What
troubles you, comrade ] You seem thunder-struck," said
Bellabre. " I feel so," was the reply ; " and this is the

TOUCHES THE SHIELD OF THE CHALLENGER. 23

reason. Here, now, I am no longer a page. Our good
lord hath made me a gentleman, but I have not the means
to appear as one. I long to touch the shield of Messire
Claude de Vaudray ; but when I have done so, where am
I to find the armor, and where the horses 1"

Bellabre was something older than Bayard, and knew
much more of the world. He was a bold fellow, with
possibly a sly humor of his own, which did riot always
hesitate to seek indulgence at the expense of his neighbor.
He answered his sorrowful comrade with a smile, " Why
should these doubts distress you 1 Have you not a fat
priest for a kinsman 1 Is not your great uncle the rich
Abbot of Esnay ] We will go to him ; and I vow to God,
if he won't furnish us the means, we will lay hands on
crosier and mitre." This was a very irreverent boldness
on the part of Bellabre ; but the anxiety of Bayard to en-
counter the challenge prevented him from the indulgence
of many unnecessary scruples. His companion made so
light of the difficulty that he at once proceeded to smite
the shield. We may imagine him to have done so with
something of the spirit and force of Wilfrid of Ivanhoe,
when he thrust the bright shaft of his lance, for the combat
a Voutrance, against that of Brian de Bois Guilbert. The
sensation was quite as great among the spectators. " How,
my friend Piquet" — for the surname of the king still clung
to him — " How !" exclaimed the master-at-arms, " will you,
with a beard not of three years' growth — will you presume
to fight with Messire Claude de Vaudray, one of the
fiercest knights that you may hear of." Admirable as they
thought the youth in his bearing and ability, there were
none who did not regard this boldness as so much boyish
presumption. But Bayard answered with laudable mod-
esty — "It is not from pride and arrogance, my friend,
but that I desire to have a knowledge of arms, wherever I
can, from those who can best bestow it. I would learn by
little and little, and it may be that God may give me grace

24 THE ABBOT OB' ESNAY.

to do something which shall please the ladies." The an-
swer provoked the laughter of the king-at-arms, and de-
lighted all who heard it. The noise of the proceeding soon
ran through the court. Piquet had touched the shield of
the Burgundian challenger. The Count de Ligny earned
the tidings to the king, who rejoiced greatly, exclaiming, " By
the faith of my body, cousin of Ligny, your breeding of this
boy will bring you honor, as my heart tells me." The
count, though pleased, was not without his anxieties. " We
shall see what will come of it," he replied : " Piquet is
yet very young to stand the blows of Messire Claude de
Vaudray. But I would rather than ten thousand crowns
that it should be so."

To touch the shield boldly did not by any means over-
come the worst difficulty in the way of our champion. To
procure the means for the adventure from the miserly grasp
of his fat uncle was a toil from which Bayard shrunk, natu-
rally, with doubt and apprehension. He knew the nig-
gardly disposition of his kinsman, and how little he was
sensible to the deeds of chivalry. To have obtained the
means from the Bishop of Grenoble, had he been at hand,
would have been an easy matter; — but this Abbot of
Esnay ! Our man-at-arms turned to his comrade, Bellabre,
who was by no means disposed to desert him at his need.
They went together to the abbot whom they found walking
in his garden at Esnay, with one of his monks, and at his
devotions. The news had already reached the reverend
father of the audacity of his nephew in touching the shield
of Claude de Vaudray. He anticipated, accordingly, the
mission upon which he came, and his reception, though
warm enough, was any thing but cordial. "What!" said
he, " you, a boy but seventeen years old — but three days
ago a page — who made you so bold to touch the shield of
Messire Claude de Vaudray 1 You grow too presumptuous,
and should be made to feel the rod again." The youth
modestly replied : " I assure you, my lord, it is not pride

FORCED CONTRIBUTIONS. 25

which has made me do this, but solely the desire to become
worthy of my ancestors and yours. I beseech you, then, as
the only near relative whom I have at Lyons, that you will
furnish me with the means for this occasion." " On my
faith," said the reverend father, " you get no money from
me ; the wealth of the church is for the service of God,
and not to be wasted in jousts and tourneys."

The bishop looked inflexible, and Bayard blank; but
Bellabre here took up the parole, and significantly remind-
ed the reverend father that, but for the prowess of knight-
hood there had been no Abbey of Esnay to endow — that it
was the military reputation, indeed, of his own ancestors
which had obtained for him his abbacy. "A sense of past
benefits alone," said the speaker, " to say nothing of wrhat
may follow hereafter, should make you incline to the ap-
plication of your nephew. He has already won honor for
his name, is in high favor with the king and my lord of
Ligny, and will you, for a matter of two hundred crowns,
endanger his future prospects, which may be worth to you
ten thousand." A hint adroitly administered, that his nig-
gardliness toward his nephew, with whom every body else
was pleased, wrould be very apt to provoke the disgust of
the king and all the courtiers, concluded the discussion,
which had taken place in the garden. Sore, but consent-
ing, the penurious abbot led the way to the dwelling, and
opening a window, he drew from it a lit.tlc purse, which he
put into the hands of Bellabre. " Here," said he, with a
biting sarcasm, " are an hundred crowns, which I put into
your charge, that you may buy t\vo horses for this valiant
man-at-arms, seeing that he is himself quite too young to
handle money. I shall write to Laurencin to furnish him
with the necessary habiliments." The good abbot never
fancied that these habiliments would cost more than a hun-
dred francs ; but as the order was unlimited, Bellabre as-
sumed the privilege of judging for his young friend what
should be the proper extent of the expenditure. Possessed

C

26 MORALS OF CHIVALRY.

of the purse and order, they took their leave with many
expressions of gratitude, to which the abbot seems to have
listened with indifference. Once out of his sight, Bellabre
conveyed to his companion a portion of that peculiar moral
philosophy which, in those days, did no discredit to the
soldier. " You must know, comrade, that when God be-
stows good fortune upon men, as he has done this day upon
you, they should do wrong not to profit by his bounty : the
bread is holy which we rob from the priesthood. Here,
now, is the order to Laurencin— let us use it quickly, ere
the abbot reconsiders. When he remembers that he hath set
no limits to his bounty in this order, he will amend it. Let
us use it quickly to procure all your accoutrements, not
simply for the tourney, but for the year to come. You will
get nothing farther from his hands."

Bayard laughed at the philosophy of his Mend, the pro-
priety of which he had no reason to doubt. The age, in
which religion was quite too frequently employed as the
cloak for crime and idleness, did not visit, with much sever-
ity, offences of this sort against a luxurious priesthood.
The advice of Bellabre was adopted. Laurencin was wait-
ed upon the moment that they reached Lyons ; the order
was promptly honored by the merchant, to whom Bellabre
told a story highly creditable to the abbot ; whom he repre-
sented as greatly delighted with the rising fame of his
nephew, to whom he had given a good breakfast, three
hundred crowns, and the ample order, of which Laurencin
was possessed already. The tradesman placed his shop
at the service of the two. He paraded his stuffs of gold
and silver, his rich velvets, embroidered satins, and gor-
geous silks, commodities in which that age was even more
luxurious than ours. The young knight was not suffered
to stint himself, by the shrewd companion at his side. He
took what was necessary to his wants, and what was grate-
ful to his eye, and the tailors were soon put in requisition
to convert his goods into becoming garments.

TRIBULATION OF THE ABBOT. 27

Our abbot was not slow to discover the excellence of the
jest. Boasting at dinner of his forced generosity, he told
what he had done. The sexton of the abbey applauded
the act, expressing a doubt, however, whether he had done
altogether wisely in not limiting the order to Laurencin.
" I fear," said he, "that your nephew will take more than
you intend, and, instead of a hundred crowns, you may have
to pay for two thousand." The abbot was instantly alarm-
ed, and despatching his steward to Laurencin, was con-
founded to learn that the amount of Bayard's purchases
was eight hundred francs instead of one hundred. " Eight
hundred francs! St. Mary!" exclaimed the reverend fa-
ther, as he received this intelligence. " Make haste to his
lodgings," he cried to his steward, " and say to him that if
he does not instantly restore to Laurencin what he hath
taken, he shall never be the better by another franc of mine."

But our friends had anticipated this mission, and the
servants were instructed that none of the people of the
Lord of Esnay were to find their way to the presence of
their master. The pages amused themselves, accordingly,
at the expense of the messenger. When the steward asked
for him in his own lodgings, he was reported to be at those
of the Count de Ligny. There, he is told that Bayard has
gone forth beyond the Rhone to try his horses ; and thus,
until he was weary, the steward was kept passing to and
fro between the angry abbot, his master, and the house-
hold of the offending nephew. Very solemn then was the
oath of the former that the boy should repent of his wicked-
ness. The crime of defrauding the church of its revenues
might well, by an abbot, be held as an unpardonable one.
He did not pardon the offence, and not another copper of
his money found its way to the purse of the offender.

Bayard shared his livres equally with Bellabre. Their
friendship hitherto had been such that they partook without
scruple of each other's goods. Two horses were bought
between them for the tourney, the day assigned for which

THE TOURNEY.

was rapidly approaching. An interval of three days was
busily employed in preparations — in going through the
hands of the tailor, in choosing and fitting armor, and dec-
orating, in the customary style of the times, the persons
of horse and rider. The tourney took pla«e on Mon-
day, the 20th July, 1494. The public and private prep-
arations were such as to draw together numerous specta-
tors. The lists were duly set in order. Place was assigned
to the king and courtiers, the noblesse, and the citizens,
and the ladies of Lyons made no inferior part of the im-
posing spectacle. The knight, Claude de Vaudray, the
challenger, was the first person to make his appearance in
the field. He was encountered, in order, as the names of
the champions had been enrolled, by many gallant gentle-
men of the court and of the royal army. There were the
Seneschal Galiot — who proved himself an expert cavalier, —
the young Bonnival, Saiidri court, Chastillon, Bourdillon, all
intimates of the king, and many others, all doing their best,
and all more or less creditably. To stimulate the spirit of the
combatants, one of the rules of the tourney was, that each
champion, after he had run his course, should be conducted
round the lists, that he might receive the plaudits of the spec-
tators. Such a proceeding would naturally prompt the am-
bition of the cavalier to the utmost exertion of his powers.
The time at length came for Bayard to make his appear-
ance in the lists. He was at this time not yet eighteen
years of age, had not attained his full growth, was tall and
spare of form, and of delicate complexion. His boyish as-
pect and person, in spite of his manly bearing, awakened
the sympathy, rather than the expectations, of the specta-
tors. It was known that he had to do with one of the most
experienced and vigorous of living knights. But Bayard
was of rare agility, and possessed, what was not apparent
to the eye, a degree of sinewy strength and well-developed
muscle, which were riot common to his years. He com-
menced rudely, we are told, abashed most probably by the

BAYARD'S FIRST TRIUMPH. 29

novelty of the situation, and somewhat tremulous from the
excited desires of his own heart. But he soon recovered
all his grace and courage, and the issue furnished a suffi-
cient sanction for his audacity. " How it happened," re-
marks the quaint old chronicler from which we translate,
" I can not tell ; whether it was that God willed that he
should have the glory, or that Messire Claude de Vaudray
was pleased to forbear somewhat in consideration of his
youth ; but there was no man in the whole course of the
tourney, whether on horse or foot, who performed his de-
voir better than he, or indeed quite so well !" And this was
the opinion of all the spectators — an opinion which the fair
ladies of Lyons did not hesitate to avow with the frankness
of hearts delighting in deeds of gallantry. When it came
to Bayard's turn to make the round of the lists, they
awarded him, in their Lyonese tongue, the highest honors
of the day — " Vcy vos cesteu malotru ! il a mieux fay que
tous los autros." " See you this awkward lad — he hath done
better than all the others !" Nor was this opinion confined to
the Lyonese ladies ; the courtiers were quite as much pleased
with his performance. The king said at supper, " Piquet
hath made a fine beginning ; in my belief he will go on to a
good end ; — cousin" — to the Lord of Ligny — " I never made
you a better present in my life, than when I gave you that
boy." To which the count answered, " Sire, it will be
more to your profit than mine if he becomes a man of
merit. It is your commendation that hath made him un-
dertake so nobly." He added, " There is one, however,
who takes no pleasure in his performances — his uncle, the
Abbot of Esnay. He alone looks reprovingly at the course
which brings such pleasure to us ;" and the count proceed-
ed to tell the story of the unlimited order, the eight hundred
crowns for which our two friends had assessed the reverend
father, and of his unavailing dunning through the medium
of the steward ; — a story which provoked king and courtiers
to a very hearty fit of laughter.

c*

CHAPTER IV.

THIS successful initial passage-at-arms led to the promo-
tion of our hero. Some short time after the event, he was
called into the presence of the Count de Ligny, who said to
him, " Piquet, my friend, you have begun your careei
happily. We shall have more war, and I will put you into
my company, with an allowance of three hundred crowns
a-year, and three horses. You will still hold your place in
my household, but will now go to the garrison and see your
comrades. You will find them as gallant a set of fellows
as there are in Christendom. They will give you sufficient
exercise in arms, as they constantly hold joust and tourney,
to win honor and the favor of the ladies. You will be bet-
ter thus, exercising with them, until we are actually re-
quired to take the field."

No intimation could have been more agreeable to our
young knight than this. His blood bounded for the exer-
cises of which his recent taste had been so pleasant and
honorable. He acknowledged with gratitude the bounty
and kindness of his superior, and declared his perfect satis-
faction with the disposition which was made of him. His
eagerness was such that he avowed his desire to depart
without delay, and the count was willing that he should do
so, but first announced to him that he should take leave of
the king. Charles had just risen from dinner as they came
into his presence. " Sire," said the count, " here is your
Piquet. He is about to join his comrades in Picardy,
and comes to take leave of you." The graceful ease, and
manly but respectful manner with which Bayard made his
obeisance, was particularly pleasing to the king ; and he

BAYARD GOES INTO GARRISON. 31

said to the young soldier, with a smile, "Piquet, my friend,
may God keep you as you have begun, and you will be a
noble gentleman You go to a country where the ladies
are very charming ; you must be sure to exert yourself
and win their favor. Adieu, my friend, adieu."

Taking leave of the princes and noblesse, he was honored
with their embraces. All of them expressed regret at losing
him from court : he himself felt but little ; his heait yearned
for the more stirring military career to which he was des-
tined, and he was impatient to be gone. It does not ap-
pear at this time that he remembered the sweet damsel of
the Duchess of Savoy, to whom he had so vainly paid his
vows. He had probably begun to perceive the wisdom of
her counsel. A new world had opened upon him, and a
more enlarged ambition. New excitements of a more im-
perious nature had seized upon his imagination, arid in the
more various aspects of society, to which he had recently be-
come familiar, the force of his boy-passion might well be
subdued. That it was not eradicated, however, we have
reason to know from the progress of this history. But we
must reserve these matters for the period when they shall
more properly appear. Enough, that he still retained in
his bosom the impression of an attachment which he yet
concealed from sight beneath the cuirass. It was through
the ranks of war that he was to cleave his way to love, or
avoid its dangers. But there is no doubt that he loved his
profession, and detested a life of sloth. His eye, trained
from infancy to contemplate the eagle career of his ancestors,
had made this career a part of each desire in his soul. It
was his duty to become a warrior, a knight brave and gen-
tle, conquering all foes by deeds of arms, all hearts by deeds
of loveliness and grace.

It was not his " adieus" alone that Charles bestowed upon
his youthful soldier. Just before his departure, a purse of
three hundred crowns was brought him from the monarch,
with one of the finest horses' from his stables. To those

32 COUNSEL OF DE LIGNY.

about him he bestowed freely of the money, while, in the
courser, he beheld a token not less of what was expected
at his hands, than of the favor of his master. His parting
with the Count de Ligny was serious and impressive. This
nobleman had learned to love the boy, as if he were his
own son. He brought him to his lodgings and gave him a
world of counsel, affectionately urged and expressed. " It
is a false notion, Piquet," he remarked, " that the life of
the soldier confers upon us the right to forget God and re-
lio-ion. There is nothing in our profession which is incom-

O O -L

patible with a becoming devotion. God expects not from
us, indeed, the same continued meditation and frequent
prayer, the rigorous penances and long abstinences which
are practiced by the professed religious in the life of the
cloister ; but there is nothing in our duties to prevent our
love of God, our obedience to his will, and fear of his an-
ger. These, with the exercise of charity, are virtues in all
human conditions. Keep these always active in your soul,
for without these even that sentiment of honor which you
have received from your ancestors would be of little lasting
value or account. It is only proper when coupled with the
fear and love of God. I pray you to respect the priest-
hood— their profession not less than their persons. Yield
not to any evil example of your comrades, when they would
make a mock of these honorable men. Priests are like
other men, Piquet ; they have their weaknesses, and may
have their vices, but they endure many provocations, and
these should make us indulgent to their faults. See them
in the cottage of the poor, at the bed of the dying, and
close by the side of the criminal who is marching to his
doom. The merit which the brave soldier acquires in the
day of battle is not very unlike to that which the man of
God obtains every day of his life. His life, indeed, is one
long combat and victory, and this, too, without any of that
glory and applause which mortal honor brings to compen-
sate those who toil bravely in her behalf. Think of these

PARTING OF THE FRIENDS. 33

things, my son, and they will secure you equally the favor
of God and man. But the hour wears, and you have
need of sleep, as you will depart early in the morning.
As you will leave before I rise, you must take my farewell
to-night. Go, my son, and may God conduct you always."

The lessons of chivalry, from teachers such as the Lord
of Ligny, were not unworthy of the pretensions of the or-
der, in its most noble and honorable periods. Tears filled
the eyes of Bayard as he listened, and he answered with the
affectionate respect of one whose gratitude was equally
warm and without constraint. He retired to his own lodg-
ings escorted by his young companions, by all of whom he
was honored and beloved. They did not part from him
without many embraces. Having reached his chamber, he
found the tailors of the Count de Ligny awaiting him with
two complete suits of clothes, the gift of that nobleman.
" Give my thanks to my lord," said the youth, " for this and
the many favors he hath conferred upon me, none of which
have I deserved." Twenty crowns rewarded the bearer
of the gift, and ten crowns were left for the groom who
brought his courser. The night was half spent before he
laid himself down to rest, and he slept but little. He was
about to enter the great world, to begin a life of independ-
ent action, a boy no longer, and among new comrades.
He rose with the dawn, and sent off his baggage and
horses. Of these he had six of a large size, suitable for use
in actual war, and five or six more, of smaller size, for ordi-
nary purposes. His friend Bellabre accompanied him as
far as Brele, where they dined, and parted. Their separa-
tion was not a sad one, as it was understood that the for-
mer, as soon as he received certain horses which were on
their way from Spain, would follow fast upon his footsteps.

Our hero traveled by short stages, for the better treat-
ment of his horses, several of which were led. Arrived
within a few leagues of the town of A ire, he sent forward
one of his people to look for lodgings. His reputation had

34 TARDIEU, A GOOD COMPANION.

gone before him, and when it was known to his future
companions that he was approaching, more than six-and-
twenty of their number came forth to meet him and form
his escort. These were all sons of noblemen, or of noble
family. They were curious to see the youth who had dared
cross lances with Claude de Vaudray, and of whose equal
skill, courage and modesty they had already heard so
much. Their welcome was joyous, and the approach to
Aire was that of a triumph. The ladies, too, had heard
of our hero, and the windows were thronged as the gay
cavalcade rode through the streets. Escorted to his lodg-
ings by his comrades, some of them remained with him to
supper. He found them a merry set, fond of pleasure, but
without the means to indulge their passion to much ex-
tent. They questioned him freely as to his resources, and
were delighted to find that he had more money than them-
selves. His passage-at-arms in the tourney occupied their
conversation to such a degree, and their applauses were so
lavish, as somewhat to disquiet and abash our modest hero.
They could not beguile him into a forgetfulness of his hu-
mility, and, without any transports, he replied — " There is
nothing yet to praise me for, my friends ; but, please the
Lord, with your good help, I may do something hereafter
to do me credit among persons of merit."

Among his new companions was one named Tardieu, a
lively fellow, full of humor, and fond of gayety. "Com-
rade," said he to Bayard, " I must tell you that the ladies
of this town are the handsomest in all Picardy, and by the
way, your hostess, whom you have not seen, is one of the
prettiest among them. She is now absent, gone to the wed-
ding of a niece. You will see her to-morrow, and see that
what I tell you is the truth. Now, as you can not have
come to keep garrison without a well-filled purse, you must
do something with it to please the ladies. You must
maintain your reputation by worthy actions. It is a long
time since we have had a tourney here. You must give

PREPARATIONS FOR A TOURNEY. 35

one, to take place in the next eight days. What say you I
Come, do not deny me the first favor that I ask."

The proposition no ways displeased our man-at-arms.
It must be remembered that there was nothing in the sug-
gestion of Tardieu that did not comport with the customs
of the time and country. The tourney was the proper ex-
ercise for the young warrior in seasons of repose, by which
he kept up a knowledge of the arts which he had acquired,
and prepared himself for future exigency. Bayard replied
to Tardieu precisely as he wished. " Had you asked for
a greater matter, I could not have refused you. This
proposition is quite as pleasing to me as to you. Send me
the trumpet to-morrow, and, with the captain's leave, we
will give the necessary notice." This captain was one
who had acquired the highest reputation in the armies of
France. He was one of the most famous of his time.
His name was Louis D'Ars, from Dauphiny also, the kins-
man and neighbor of Bayard. Tardieu, who knew him
well, replied — " Doubt not that we shall have leave in this
business from our captain, as we contemplate nothing evil.
He is now absent, but will return in four days. If there
be blame, let it rest on me." Bayard yielded his scruples
without reluctance. He remembered the injunctions of the
king and Count de Ligny to be sure and please the ladies,
and the lessons of chivalry taught no better process than
by deeds of arms in the tournament. When Tardieu ap-
peared the next morning, bringing the trumpeter, our young
knight was ready for him. He had scarcely slept that
night. Wearied as he had been by the travel of the day,
and kept up by his comrades to a late hour, the pleasing
excitement occasioned by the suggestion of Tardieu, had
totally baffled the approach of slumber. His visitor
scarcely paused to give him the good-clay, when he re-
minded him of his promise, and introduced the trumpeter.
" No excuse," said he ; " here's your man, and now for the
ordinance." To his surprise, the proclamation was ready

36 THE CHALLENGE TO ALL-COMERS.

to his hand. Bayard, who was well versed in the laws
and practices of chivalry, had employed his sleepless hours
in devising the courses and preparing the publication of the
tourney. The paper was already written out in a fair
hand, and ready for exhibition. His heart was in the
scheme, though, but for Tardieu, he would scarcely have
conceived it at so early a day. He would have waited
until his acquaintance with the ladies and gentlemen of
Picardy had somewhat ripened into familiarity.

His comrade perused the document with unconcealed
delight. It ran thus :

" Pierre de Bayard, young gentleman and novice in
arms, a native of Dauphiny, and one of the king's men-at-
arms, in charge of, and under conduct of the high and puis-
sant lord, Count de Ligny, hath caused a tourney to be
cried and published within and without the town of Aire,
to take place on the twentieth day of July ; to consist of
three strokes of the lance, without lists, and twelve of the
sword, with edged weapons, in armor of war, on horse-
back; and the whole in good earnest. To him who does
best his devoir, shall be given a golden bracelet, of the
weight of thirty grains, enamelled with his own device.
The day following is appointed for a combat on foot, at the
point of the lance, and within lists as high as a man's waist.
The lance being shivered, the fight to be followed up with
strokes of the battle-ax, at the discretion of the judges, and
of those who keep the field. To him who does best in this
combat shall be awarded a diamond of forty crowns value."

The terms of the combat, " afer esmoulu" shows that no
child's play was intended. Our hero styles himself, mod-
estly, a novice in arms ; he was soon to prove himself a pro-
fessor. Tardieu was delighted as he read. " By ,

comrade," he exclaimed, " not Launcelot, nor Tristrem, nor
Gawaine, could have done better." We have not said that
the early education of Bayard was rather better than was
common to his order in that day ; and, before he left school

PROSPECTS OF THE TOURNEY. 37

he had learned to write a graceful hand, and to express
himself with simplicity and clearness. " Go," cried^the
eager Tardieu, to the trumpeter — "go, cry this tourney
through the town, and from garrison to garrison, for the
space of three days, that all the lovers of good deeds may
have knowledge thereof." And this said, and the trumpet-
er dismissed, he turned to the young knight, and renewed
his congratulations. The prizes, though seemingly small,
were in that day considerable ; and they were to be paid
out of Bayard's purse. We are to understand that the
purse of a man-at-arms, in time of peace, was never likely
to be burdensome ; and the liberality which our hero dis-
played in the ready acquiescence which he gave to the
somewhat expensive suggestion of Tardieu, proved to all
parties that he was not more brave than unselfish. It was
one of the noble virtues in the character of Bayard, that he
valued money only in regard to the power which it gave
him of being useful to his friends and followers.

A single fact will show the somewhat bold character of
this challenge. There were at this time in garrison in
Picardy some eight hundred men-at-arms, many of whom
were long practised and experienced soldiers. There were
the companies of Marshal des Cordes, Philippe de Creve-
cceur, one of the Scotch, and one of the celebrated Lord de
la Palisse. There was certainly a wide range of adversaries
for the challenger, and it might reasonably be expected that,
of so many warriors, and so many who were distinguished,
there would be no lack of combatants ; and there was not.
Bayard's own captain, Louis d'Ars, returned, in the mean
while, and gladly gave his sanction to the tournament.
Bayard promptly waited upon him, and tendered his re-
spects. He was received with many affectionate caresses.
The brave men of that day were always glad to enroll
among their followers every person who promised to do
honor to their commands. To complete the happiness of
our young knight, his friend Bellabre arrived in season for

D

38 THE TOURNEY.

the fete. It had been scarcely satisfactory without him.
The days pending the tourney were passed in becoming
preparation. The young soldiers practised daily with steed
and weapon ; and their military exercises were relieved by
frequent parties, given to the ladies, in which love and gal-
lantry suggested the materials of conversation, and the dance
was closed with the banquet. In these courtly pastimes,
our young knight was the observed of all observers. The
ladies, who were not those of the town only, but of the
surrounding country also, were never weary in his praise.
His grace of bearing, the modesty of his discourse, and his
frank and generous spirit, won for him applauses which
they bestowed upon no other of his comrades ; and their
praises were redoubled when it was found that none of the
favors which he received had filled his heart with pride.
In the enjoyment of the smiles of the ladies, he neither for-
got himself nor them. It is thus that merit, when combined
with modesty, bewitches all the world. The envious
themselves will forget the superiority which they are never
required to acknowledge.

The day appointed for the tourney came a,t last, and our
little world of Aire was in great and pleasant commotion.
There was no faltering among the combatants, all of whom
were promptly mustered into opposing ranks. Every prep-
aration had been made, that the spectacle should be a brill-
iant one. The knights were in their gayest caparison ; and
the ladies who looked on, whose favors they wore, and
whose smiles and cheers encouraged them, were never
more solicitous in the display of their choicest fashions.
The judges of the field were Captain Louis d'Ars and the
Lord of St. Quentin. The trumpets sounded, and forty-
six combatants appeared in armor, and on horseback.
They were divided into two equal bodies. The second
peal of the trumpets announced the beginning of the tour-
ney. At this signal, Bayard was the first to present him-
self. He was opposed by Aymon de Salvaign, lord of Bois-

FIRST PASSAGE WITH THE LORD OF BO1SSIEU. 39

sieu, whose surname was Tartarin, as that of Bayard was
Piquet. This gentleman was of an illustrious house, of
Dauphiny, and from our young knight's own neighbor-
hood. He was known to be very formidable in the use
of his weapons. The charge was sounded ; and, as they
rushed together, the encounter of the passage was so keen
as to shiver both lances; that of Boissieu breaking off near
the head, at the junction of the iron with the wood, while
that of Bayard, smiting the top of the great vantbrace, was
broken into several pieces. It was a marvellous fine pass-
age, and the trumpets sounded furiously, as if in emulation
of the opposing champions. The first course accomplished,
they prepared for the second with fresh spirit and new lances.
Again they rushed together, and the charge was not less
beautiful than before. In this passage, it was the fortune of
Boissieu to pierce the vantbrace of Bayard about the elbow.
It was thought by all that the arm had been wounded ; but
this was a mistake. The spear of our knight smote his ad-
versary above his visor, and bore away the chaplet of
feathers from his helm. Once more the joy of trumpets,
and the two champions, who had sufficiently convinced all
spectators of their skill and spirit, gave place to other com-
batants.

The next who succeeded were Bellabre, our knight's
friend, and a Scottish gentleman, a captain in the French
service, named David de Fougas. They fractured their
opposing lances with admirable success, and gave way to
other parties; and thus, two by two, until the courses had
been run by all the combatants. The conflict of the lance
was followed by that of the sword. The foe who en-
countered our young knight with this weapon is not men-
tioned ; but the sword of Bayard was shivered at the first
collision.* But this did not seem to lessen, but rather

* Some say the third, but we prefer to follow his secretary, " the loyal
servant," who says the first. The matter, fortunately, is of no great im-
portance.

40 AFTER THE TOURNEY.

aroused him to the exercise of all his powers of defence.
So well did he continue the conflict with the fragment re-
maining in his grasp, that his opponent failed to gain any
advantage from the mishap which seemed so decidedly to
give it him. The prescribed number of blows having been
given, without damage, these adversaries were made to
give place to others. And thus the day passed as joyously
as it had begun. There was nothing to impair the gayety
of the assemblage. The spectators were all agreed that
better play, whether with lance or sword, had never been
shown. All had done well and were honored, but the
palm of excellence was borne away confessedly, first, by our
young knight, and then by Bellabre, Boissieu, Captain
David of Fougas, and our pleasant comrade, Tardieu.

The supper and the dance followed at the lodgings of
Bayard, where the ladies were sumptuously entertained,
and the approach of midnight found nobody tired. But
they did not fancy such late hours then as they do at mod-
ern parties. The ladies, many of whom had come from a
distance of ten miles, had to seek lodgings for the night ;
and the young gallants saw them safely home, just as they
do now, in less chivalrous seasons. It was late the next
day before they had risen, and then, we are told, they
were never weary of commending our good knight, who,
for prowess in arms and courtesy, was not thought by them
to have his equal in the world.

But the sports were not over, and some of the details of
the next day may well be recorded in illustration of the
manners of the time. The champions, with Bayard at their
head, repaired at an early hour to the house of their cap-
tain, to make their respects, and to entreat him to honor
them with his presence at a dinner, to which the Lord of
St. Quentin and other noblemen were invited also. There
they were to meet with the ladies whom they had found so
agreeable the night before — and this, we must remember,
was at the lodgings of our bachelor, and he but eigh-

CUSTOMS OF CHIVALRY. 41

teen years of age. We find it difficult in our day to under-
stand the singular blending of so much humility, in some
respects, in the training of the youth, with so much confi-
dence and boldness, in other regards, which seems to have
been encouraged in them and looked for at their hands.
There was then no indecorum in the damsel visiting the
young knight, and supping at his lodgings ; for it was the
lesson of that day, that the maiden might properly dress the
wounds of the cavalier, though there were no ties of blood
between them.

The invitation of Bayard was accepted, and the whole
party then proceeded to hear mass ; after which, bestowing
themselves upon the ladies, they escorted them to the lodg-
ings of our young knight, discoursing by the way of love,
and all those various pleasant fancies, through the medium
of which the young heart declares an instinct as certainly
as a sentiment. The entertainment of the day was not less
grateful to the company than that of the preceding night.
The dinner of Bayard was pronounced to be quite as ex-
cellent as his supper ; and he himself was constantly found to
improve upon acquaintance. But the dinner of that period
was not the prolonged festival — the tour of duty — which
we have made it ; and it took place comparatively at an
early hour. Nor could the repast itself have been of that
weighty and benumbing character which it commonly
proves with us, denying all but moderate exercise after it
has been discussed. On this occasion, when our young
soldiers rose from table, it was to resume their places in the
tournament. The order of the second day was to be per-
formed, and expectations were not less high among the
champions themselves and the spectators than on the day
before. The tilt was begun by Bayard in the usual man-
ner. The knight who came against him, in this new en-
counter, was one Hanotin de Sucre, a gentleman of Hai-
nault, who had a high reputation for bravery. He did not
discredit his renown. So fiercely did the adversaries rush

D*

42 CLOSE OF THE TOURNEY.

to the encounter, and so well did they aim their lances,
that both spears shivered in the charge. These were flung
aside, and the combat was resumed with the battle-ax, hon-
estly, after the terms of the challenge, a fer esmoulu, in
downright earnest. The combat threatened to be a mortal
one ; many were the strokes given and received ; heavy,
hard blows on helm and cuirass, which the champions baf-
fled, as well as they might, with all their skill, and bore with
all their fortitude. For some time the parties fought with
pretty equal success, but finally our young knight suc-
ceeded in planting an ugly blow upon the ear of his oppo-
nent, under which he staggered and sunk upon his knees.
Still seeming to offer fight, Bayard, with a second blow,
made him fairly kiss the earth ; a feat which he performed
so unwillingly that the judges of the field came to his re-
lief, with the cry, " Halloo ! halloo ! enough ! Let them
retire !"

Bellabre followed, in an encounter with one Arnaulton
de Pierreforade, a gentleman of Gascony, according to the
prescribed routine, and taking to their battle-axes when
their lances were splintered. Then came our jovial
friend Tardieu, and Captain David, the Scotchman; and
so on through the whole train of combatants, each pair in
turn, until all had enjoyed a sufficient taste of the tourney.
The sports of this day occupied seven hours, and gave no
less satisfaction than those of the day before. The fighting
was considered admirable all round, but the field had its
favorites, and there were prizes to be distributed. The
day was far from finished when the champions had put
off their armor and donned more courtly habits. They as-
sembled again to a banquet at Bayard's lodgings, where
the ladies were already waiting them. There, also, were
the two judges of the field, Louis d'Ars and the Lord of
St. Quentin. The discussion of the supper and of the
merits of the champions went on together. The ladies freely
shared in both. After supper, a vote was taken upon the sub-

AWARD OF THE JUDGES. 43

ject. The opinions of gentlemen experienced in matters of
war and chivalry were then demanded by the judges. These
were required to declare themselves upon their honor. A
similar demand was made for the judgment of the ladies ;
but they were required to pronounce their verdict accord-
ing to their consciences. The distinction is not so subtle a
one but that we can easily perceive it now; even now,
while we may require the oath of the man, we are content
with the simple assurance of the lady. While he would be
required to asseverate, we are satisfied if she affirms. The
law which makes the distinction is one of courtesy, and in
the days of chivalry it took cognizance of very subtle mat-
ters. The result of the discussion was that all had
done remarkably well, but that our young knight — or, as
he even then began to be called, the good knight — had
proved himself the ablest champion. They accorded to him
the prizes of both days to distribute as he thought proper.

The judgment of the court was pronounced with flourish
of trumpets by the Lord of St. Q,uentin, who said, "Gen-
tlemen here assembled, especially you that have done bat-
tle in this tourney, for best performance in which Master
Pierre de Bayard hath offered prizes, know ye, that we the
judges commissioned by you all to make the award, after
having duly inquired of all the brave and honorable gentle-
men who have seen the fight, and likewise of all the noble
ladies here present, do declare that each has played his part
well, and with much credit. But, without taking from the
merit of any, we decree, according to the common voice,
that the Lord of Bayard hath, on both days, shown himself
the most worthy combatant, wherefore the gentlemen and
ladies award to him the honor of bestowing the prizes as he
shall deem most fit. And now," turning to the young
knight, "bethink you, Lord of Bayard, to whom you will
deliver them."

The youth was quite abashed at this address, and re-
mained a brief space silent ; then, gathering confidence, he

44 BAYARD BESTOWS THE PRIZES.

answered, " My lord, I know not wherefore I should have
this honor. It seems to me that there are other knights
who have better deserved it than myself. Since, however,
your decree has placed the prizes at my disposal, I entreat
my companions of the tourney not to be displeased if I
bestow the prize of the first day upon the Lord of Bellabre,
and that of the second upon Captain David of Fougas."
Saying this he bestowed the prizes. Nobody complained
of this decision, the justice of which, he himself being no
longer a party among the claimants, was recognized by all.
And thus finished our hero's first public passage in Picardy.
It was a highly successful experiment, and lords and ladies
augured well equally of a career which was so well begun,
and in favor of a character which continued to charm the
more, the more its noble and graceful qualities became de-
veloped to his associates. And this experience of all, un-
derwent no change during the two years that Bayard
remained in garrison at this place. Many were the tourna-
ments that followed, all graced by the presence of the brave
and fair, and crowned with the banquet, the dance, and
other sports of the time. In most of these he continued to
bear away the crown, winning hearts and prizes together.
His biographers all agree in ascribing this to one cause
chiefly. He never suffered any rivalship in grace and gener-
osity ; his successes never made him forget his moderation,
and his nice regard to the feelings and the pride of others.
He was the most gracious and most liberal of gentlemen; he
was, indeed, the gentle man, taking the word as resolved
into its elements and in its true signification. He shared his
money to the last crown with his companions ; he never
saw one of them dismounted whom he did not help to rise
— no small favor, where the struggling knight was made
fast from head to heels, in iron garments — he was regular
at his devotions, a great giver of alms, and never withheld
a boon which it was in his power to bestow. The pure,
sweet lessons of his mother, as she yielded him to the

HIS POPULARITY. 45

world — the manly and honorable counsels of the Lord de
Ligny as he sent him into garrison — none of these had been
forgotten. He lost nothing of the fair blossom of his youth
in the opening flower of his manhood ; and the two first
years of his military life which he passed in Picardy, while
it conferred upon him much of the knowledge which man-
hood must necessarily acquire, and which men only can
impart, still left him free from those degrading vices and
wretched moral taints which are but too often supposed to
be inseparable from the sterner training which one acquires
from the world.

CHAPTER V.

THUS, pleasantly enough, and with great profit to him-
self, passed the first two years of the military experience
of our young knight. His blood was exhilarated, and his
body strengthened, by constant muscular exercises ; his
person had expanded into symmetry and manhood; his
tastes were refined and elevated by frequent intercourse
with the other sex ; his heart had developed the noblest
sensibilities, while his mind had acquired acuteness and
vigor, leading him to prompt combinations of thought, to a
wonderful soundness in the formation of opinions, and to con-
clusions which were equally correct and rapid. These re-
sources of intellect and person were now to be put to use
in actual warfare. The shadows and images of war were to
give place to its stern realities, and the ardent desires of
our man-at-arms were soon, in some sort; to be gratified.
Charles VIII. had resolved to assert, by arms, his claims to
the crown of Naples. These claims were such only as
could be urged by power; the right was shadowy and
unsubstantial, and, but for the intrigues of Ludovic Sfor-
za, then in the government of Milan, and doubtful of his
seat, who represented the conquest as easy, and who flat-
tered Charles that he might become another Charlemagne,
would never have been suffered to disquiet the peace of the
nations. Naples overcome, and the next step was to dis-
possess the Turk of Constantinople. This was one of the
lures of Sforza, and, wild as was the project, it had its in-
fluence not less upon the French nation than upon its mon-
arch. The younger part of the nobility were eager for the
invasion. The people were prepared to regard it as a

WAR AGAINST NAPLES. 47

preparatory step to another Holy War — a crusade in which
they were to acquire claims upon heaven by their bold as-
saults upon a heathen enemy. The more judicious coun-
sellors of the realm opposed themselves to the design.
They knew the infirmities of the monarch's character, and
were probably not insensible to the weakness of his claim,*
though, on this head, they may have said nothing. They
represented to him the impolicy of quitting his kingdom, the
d anger to himself and country of exposing his person in a for-
eign war, the numerous enemies whom he would make active
by the invasion, the ability in war of some of his opponents,
and his own exhausted finances. They warned him against
the meshes of the Italian politicians, and urged him not to
incur perils from which his more prudent predecessor
shrunk with becoming caution, if not in fear.f But their
arguments were unavailing against those of the cunning and
faithless Sforza, the impatient eagerness of the king's
younger barons, and his own restless vanity. The young
and ardent enterprise of the nation longed for employ-
ment, and the associates of Charles, who was himself just
arrived at manhood, naturally made a more decided im-
pression upon his mind than the counsels of graybeards,
with whom he had no sympathy. There were thousands
of gay gallants, brave and chivalrous, in the armies of the
king, who, seen in the frequent passages of the tourney,
might readily persuade themselves and their monarch that
they were equal to any enterprise. They would naturally
urge him upon this. The war was, accordingly, decreed, and
the preparations for carrying it on were made with a vigor
which surprised all who knew the uncertainty and weakness
of his character. An immense army was rapidly brought
together, which, variously estimated, was probably about

* See on this subject the well-argued paper contained among the mis-
cellanies of Gibbon, entitled, " Critical Researches concerning the Title of
Charles VIII. to the Crown of Naples."

t Roscoe's Leo the Tenth.

48 ITALY OVERRUN.

forty thousand men. Our young knight took the field under
the command of the Count de Ligny.

But the war did not at first promise much for his youthful
ambition. It was a triumphal progress rather than the
march of an army into the country of an enemy. The Ital-
ians were overwhelmed by the greatness and suddenness of
the invasion. Sforza himself, who had contemplated noth-
ing farther than a war of intrigue, and whose aim was sim-
ply to occupy the ear of the French king for his own pur-
poses, was astounded by what he had done, and soon began
to play false with his ally, though, for some time, he contin-
ued to maintain appearances. He met and welcomed him
into Italy, which was quickly overrun, without making an
effort to defend her plains. Florence made a vain show of
resistance, which was instantly quelled, and the French
army penetrated the territories of the Church. Charles
entered Rome on the last night of the year 1494, by the
light of a thousand torches, and in the habit of a conqueror.
Here, by way of duly asserting his seignorial rights, he
raised that simple structure which wits have denominated
the most certain proof of civilization — the gallows. His
first act of authority was the prompt punishment of certain
malefactors, by hanging, drowning, whipping, and mutila-
tion, showing that, " as a true son of the Church, and most
Christian king, he enjoyed the same power of executing
justice in Rome, as in his town of Paris." * The pope, the
notorious Alexander VI., though bitterly grieved at heart,
had no reproaches. He dared not even murmur at this
gross derogation from his civil and spiritual authority.
Wholly at the mercy of the conqueror, he honored him
with his embraces and garbed his hostility in smiles. From
Rome an equally triumphant progress brought the French
monarch upon Naples ; no warlike opposition being offered
which was not instantly subdued. He entered the city on
the 22d February, 1495, assumed the government, and in a

* Monstrelet.

EXCESSES OF THE FRENCH. 49

few days was hailed as the sovereign of the kingdom. Never
was progress so complete. The pope, concealing his own
dissatisfaction, sarcastically said that " the French had over-
run Italy with wooden spurs, and conquered it with chalk,"
alluding to the custom in those days of marking with chalk
the doors of those upon whom the soldiery was to be quar-
tered.*

But the spirit which was wanting to resist the invasion
was not wanting to punish and avenge it. The Italians
were deeply mortified at the disgrace of their country ; their
resentments were increased by the licentiousness which
marked the progress of the French soldiery, whose excesses
are admitted by their own historians.! They were scornful
and contemptuous when dealing with the better classes,
brutal and fierce when they happened among the common
people. " At our first entrance into Italy we were adored
as saints, . . . but that opinion lasted not long ; our own dis-
orders, and the clamors and false reports of our enemies,
quickly convinced them of the contrary." The disorders
of the French are all to be traced to their superiors, and
particularly to their monarch. His conduct was that of a
boy suddenly possessed of an abundance of novel play-
things. Instead of devoting himself to his new government,
strengthening its defences, providing against its exigencies,
and soothing the public rnind until he had won its confi-
dence, he gave himself up to practices, now of pleasure, and
now of superstition, which were neither of them often of a
kingly nature. But he was not selfish in his pleasures, and
among other modes of employing his cavaliers, and amus-
ing his subjects, a solemn tournament was decreed, which
continued day by day for a week. It was attended nu-
merously from all parts of Italy. The great lords of Flor-
ence and other states were present, forgetting their country
in the love of change and pleasure, and declaring for the
invader with as much zeal as if he had been the monarch
* Roscoe's Leo the Tenth. t Philip de Comines, B. vii.

E

50 THE ITALIANS ROUSE THEMSELVES.

of their choice. The great ladies of Naples and the sur-
rounding country did not withhold their presence, and, in
the exhibition of his power, Charles seemed to forget all
precautions for its security. We do not learn that our lion
chevalier took any part in this tourney : his name is not
mentioned by the chroniclers. Doubtless, he would have
been present if this had been possible or proper. The
honors of the field seems to have remained with the more
aristocratic, if not more noble names of Chastillon and
Bourdillon ; and, if our young knight jousted at all during
these passages at Naples, it was probably in conflict with
more youthful champions like himself, whose deeds were
lost sight of in their inferiority of rank and name. We
shall find, however, that the chronicles, which are silent in
respect to his performances at the solemn tournament of
Charles, at Naples, exhibit no such reserve in regard to his
general conduct. They are at some pains to separate his
career from that of his associates, in all that concerns the
cause of purity and humanity. The noble propriety of his
deportment toward the people among whom he moved as
an enemy, proved him to have forgotten none of his early les-
sons of gentleness and good faith. The pride of success, the
exulting passion which makes triumph so frequently forget-
ful of humanity and right, particularly in the bosom of impet-
uous youth, seems never for an instant to have beguiled him
from those virtues which had always been his distinction.

While Charles was wasting time, which was precious
for the safety of his acquisition, his enemies were busy.
The always conflicting states of Italy, urged by the neces-
sity of the case, and each trembling for its own safety, were
quickly brought together. To expel an invader, too pow-
erful for them all separately, was obviously the common
object. The royal family which had been driven out by
Charles from Naples, had sought, and succeeded in obtain-
ing, the alliance and support of the Spaniards. Ferdinand,
the selfish and avaricious monarch of that country, had his

CHARLES RETREATS FROM NAPLES. 51

own interests to subserve in giving succor to the exiled
Prince of Naples ; though, in so doing, he violated the ex-
press stipulations of a treaty which he had made with
Charles, before the invasion of Italy by the latter, in which
he solemnly engaged not to interfere in the concerns of
Naples. Ludovic Sforza, who had chiefly instigated the
French king to the invasion, now abandoned him. The
Venetians, who had been quieted by Sforza, so as to look
with indifference on the advance of the French, shared nat-
urally in his caprice, and joined the league against them ;
urging forward the preparations for their expulsion with a
vigor singularly contrasted with their previous unconcern.
In a short time the ambassador of Charles at Venice was
coolly informed that an army of forty thousand men were
about to take the field, the purpose of which he was suffer-
ed to conjecture as he pleased.*

The peril of Charles was now very great ; and had the
movements of the allies, in assembling their forces, been a
little more rapid, he could never have regained his king-
dom. No sooner had he been advised of the league against
him than he prepared to quit his newly-acquired dominions.
In thus deciding, he committed the error of leaving behind
him a part of his army in possession of the capital and of
the fortresses of the kingdom. Inadequate to the mainten-
ance of the conflict, they were left only to be sacrificed in
detail, while the force which accompanied his person was
scarcely equal, but for the smiles of a very favoring fortune,
to have saved him from the numerous enemies who were
crowding to prevent his flight. Some of the errors which
were made by Charles at this period, are ascribed by Co-
mines to the master of our young knight, the Count de
Ligny, against whom the old chronicler seems to entertain
a grudge. It is evident enough that, in one instance, the
warmth and generosity of his feelings, served, in some de-
gree, to lessen his own, and the securities of his sovereign,
* See the interesting narrative of Comines, B. vii, viii.

52 THE FRENCH CROSS THE APENNINES.

arid to peril the safety of a select body of troops. His
counsel, against the advice of older heads, to garrison Pisa
and not restore her people to the tyranny of Florence, was
the rejection of a large sum of money, never more necessary
than at that moment to the king ; and the diminution of the
already too small army which was to enable him to reach
his kingdom. The Duke de Moiitpensier was left in charge
of his Italian possessions, with assurances of early succors
from France.

Our young chevalier was one of those who attended the
steps of the retreating monarch. At Pisa, Charles was re-
ceived with triumphal honors, the people being anxious for
any change which promised to relieve them from their for-
mer tyrants. At this place he remained a week, then pro-
ceeded leisurely through Lucca and Pietra Santa, to Sar-
zana. Here he was persuaded to send a small force to
assist the Genoese, who were described as anxious to throw
off the yoke of the Duke of Milan. But the Genoese re-
tained their fidelity, and the expedition was defeated.
Approaching Pontremoli, a fortified town at the foot of
the Apennines, where the French expected some oppo-
sition, the place was yielded to their advance without offer-
ing any resistance ; but a quarrel between some of the in-
habitants and a party of German soldiers in the French
service, in which forty of the latter lost their lives, led to a
terrible massacre of the people and the destruction of the
town. This affair, at once disgraceful and impolitic, was
the act of the auxiliaries. We do not find that the French
portion of the forces of Charles were at all concerned in the
proceeding, and it was highly resented by the king himself.
He now crossed the Apennines, having consumed six weeks
in his march, and at a time when his safety chiefly depend-
ed upon his passing the mountains before his enemies could
assemble in sufficient strength to oppose his progress. He
had passed the summit of those hills which form the northern
extremity of the Apennines, when the plains of Lombardy

BATTLE OF FORNOVO. 53

opening upon his sight, displayed the tents and pavilions of
a numerous army. It was here that the Marquis of Man-
tua, the generalissimo of the allied powers, had accumula-
ted a force of nearly forty thousand men : that of Charles
not exceeding nine thousand. The opposing armies came
together near the little town of Fornovo. An attempt was
made to treat for the free passage of the King of France
to his own dominions. The celebrated Philip de Comines,
who was the commissioner for Charles, advised him,
however, before the negotiation was opened, that it
would result in nothing. " I never saw two great armies
so near," said the experienced statesman, "but they fought
before they parted." This meeting might have been
avoided by the French ; but their progress was a series
of blunders, the final escape from which seems almost
to confer a sacred sanction upon the predictions of the
monk Savonarola, who claimed the gift of prophecy, and
who told Comines that his master would reach France in
safety. The negotiation failed ; the battle was no longer to
be avoided. It began with the attempt at the passage of the
liver Taro, of the advanced guard of the French with the
artillery. The Italian forces were in motion as soon as the
French ; the cavalry of the latter followed, with the king
in person ; the rear was brought up by the Count de Foix.
Upon this body the Italians fell with their greatest force.
Led by the Marquis of Mantua, they forced their way to
the very person of Charles, and nothing but his own gal-
lantry, and the devoted service of his cavaliers, saved him
from death or captivity. He himself did the duty of a com-
mon soldier, threw off his constitutional timidity, and did
honor to the great empire which he swayed. His person
was several times in danger, but he was always saved by a
happy occurrence of events, such as could not have been
predicted in a combat so very desultory and full of caprice
as that of Fornovo. It is difficult now to designate the
events which singly or together brought about the final re-
s'

54 BAYARD'S VALOR.

suit; but the victory lay with the French. The Italians
were defeated, and fled in every direction. . . . Ten thousand
of them are reported to have perished, while the loss of the
French was less than one thousand. The confederates con-
soled themselves with the spoils of the French camp, which
they succeeded in carrying in their flight. Their eagerness
in the appropriation of these, in all probability, led to the
discreditable result of the battle. Those who were not thus1
beguiled, fought bravely, and their leaders paid dearly for
the desertion of their followers. " I myself," remarks Co-
mines, " saw a list of eighteen considerable persons, and
among the rest four or five Gonzagas, which are of the
marquis's (of Mantua) own family, who were slain."

This was the first stricken field in which Bayard fought.
Here, properly speaking, he fleshed his maiden sword. He
began his career in such a manner as to confirm all the
hopes which had been formed of his fearlessness and skill.
At the first blush of battle he rushed into the melee, and
bore himself triumphantly throughout all the charges of the
day. Two horses were killed under him, but he himself
escaped unhurt. The battle was one almost \vholly of
sword and lance ; but few were slain by the artillery ; and
this fact is enough, by itself, to show the efficiency of that
arm in the French array, in which Bayard distinguished
himself. His conduct did not escape the notice of his su-
periors. He received from the king a reward of five hun-
dred crowns for his valor, and in return laid at his feet the
standards of the enemy's cavalry which he had captured in
the pursuit.

The farther progress of the French army was unembar-
rassed by their enemies, and Charles reached his capital in
safety. He had succeeded in the conquest of Naples, had
placed its crown upon his head, had traversed Italy as a
conqueror, yet had failed shamefully in all the substantial
purposes of his expedition. Naples was soon repossessed
by its former masters, the garrisons of the French fell one

DEATH OF CHARLES VIII. 55

by one into the hands of the Italians and their confederates,
and, though fighting bravely, and disputing the arms of
their foes at every point, the forces which he left behind
him were formally expelled from Italy, after the loss of
great numbers and the endurance of great privation. The
finances of France were in the worst condition, and the
nation was embarrassed with a heavy debt. The people
no less than soldiery were demoralized by the new lessons
of licentiousness which the latter brought from the war ;
and Charles himself, always a feeble prince, soon sank into
an imbecile. He may have meditated preparations against
the Italian states, and for the recovery of his kingdom of
Naples, but he effected nothing; and died suddenly of
apoplexy at a game of tennis.

CHAPTER VI.

CHARLES VIII. was succeeded on the throne of France
by his cousin Louis, duke of Orleans, who took the title of
Louis XII. He soon declared his intentions with regard
to Italy, by adding to his titles those of Duke of Milan and
King of the Two Sicilies. The states of Italy greatly re-
joiced at the death of Charles, whose last days were spent
in idle resolves for the resumption of his Neapolitan domin-
ion. But Louis was a much more dangerous enemy to
their peace than Charles had ever shown himself. He was
a man of greater courage and greater sagacity, and had
acquired considerable experience of a kind the most valua-
ble to him in his present projects, during the expedition of
his successor, in which he had borne an active part himself.
He began his preparations at an early period by negociating
with the other powers of Europe, and particularly with the
Italian governments. His aim was to secure their assist-

THE FRENCH INVADE THE MILANESE. 57

ance, or, at least, their neutrality. The Pope was gained
over to his interests by a marriage of Caesar Borgia with
a daughter of the King of Navarre, and near relation of
Louis, and by other favors which the latter knew how to
confer with grace and to profitable ends. The Venetians,
for a consideration, became a party to his ambitious proj-
ects; and Spain, tempted by a share of the spoil which
was to be obtained by the conquest of Naples, agreed by
secret treaty to assist in the operation. The French army,
commanded by the Count de Ligny and Stuart d'Aubigny,
crossed the Alps, and forming a junction with Trivulzio, an
able but faithless Italian Condottiero, who had obtained the
rank of a marshal of France, occupied the chief towns in the
Milanese, and at length captured and sacked the capital.
This place was held by the thrice-dyed traitor, Ludovic
Sforza, who made his escape with difficulty. The King of
France entered Milan as a sovereign on the 6th of October,
1499, amid the acclamations of the people. The states of
Milan and Genoa were taken into the allegiance of France.
Cremona was given to the Venetians, and Caesar Borgia,
now called the Duke of Valentinois, at the head of the Pa-
pal and a portion of the French forces, proceeded to con-
quer for himself a principality out of the territories of other
Italian states. The war was not such as to yield reputation to
the young knight ambitious of distinction. The invasion,
quite as rapid and as successful as that of Charles had been
at first, afforded no enemy worthy of the arms of the inva-
der. Bayard, who made the campaign, still under the
banner of the Count de Ligny, sighed at the inglorious
progress which brought victory to the French banners with-
out in any wise tasking French valor ; and the peaceful
garrison life to which he was consigned on the return of
Louis to France, though somewhat relieved by the sports
of the tourney, failed now to satisfy the appetite of one
who, in actual warfare, had already been made to relish
the superiority of stronger food. Still, these sports were

58 BAYARD SLAYS HIS OPPONENT IN THE TOURNEY.

not always peaceful, and, in the case of our young knight,
the issue of one of them proved serious enough. Among
the frequent tourneys which took place in Lombardy, in
most of which he shared, there was one in which he en-
countered a Milanese gentleman named Giacinto Simonet-
ta. Simonetta was a brave and skilful knight, but his
conceit and arrogance were insufferable ; and, fighting with
Bayard, he so provoked him by his insolence, that the pas-
time became a combat d Voutrance, and our young knight
slew him in the lists. The chroniclers give us no farther
particulars of an affair which was yet regarded as a prog-
nostic of the calamities which threatened the House of
Sforza.

Left with a considerable portion of the French army in
Lombardy, Bayard, after this event, availed himself of the
apparent quiet of the country, to renew his acquaintance
with the surviving members of the House of Savoy.
Charles I., duke of that House, to whom he owed his ear-
liest military training, was now no more. His widow,
Blanche, maintained a little court at the town of Carignan
in Piedmont, which had been assigned her for a dowry.
The heart of Bayard warmed toward the lady of whose
lord he had been a favorite page. He had a tender recol-
lection of the happy months spent in his service ; and other
recollections of peculiar force served to render him anx-
ious once more to renew his intimacy with a family, some
of whose members still held a large influence over his
heart. The duchess was a very generous and noble prin-
cess, and came of a famous stock. Blanche Paleologus
was the daughter of William VII., marquis of Montferrat,
and her husband had been surnamed " the warrior." The
fame of Bayard had reached her ears, and his welcome
was that of a kinsman. She received him with equal
kindness and distinction ; his achievements were grateful
to her pride, as they might in some degree be ascribed to
her own and husband's training; and she had no imperfect

RENEWS AN ANCIENT FRIENDSHIP. 59

memory of the graceful and modest page whose native ac-
complishments had won her regards, as they had won those
of all other persons. Bayard was greatly rejoiced, as we
may suppose, at this reception ; but, with the profoundest
attachment and gratitude for this noble lady, it must be ad-
mitted that there was yet another motive for the visit of our
young gallant. A feeling something stronger than either
gratitude or friendship was actively working in his heart.
We have not forgotten the boy-passion of Bayard for the
young damsel in the train of the duchess, who, in return
for his proposals of love, gave him such admirable exhorta-
tions to prudence, just before his transfer to the service of
the Count de Ligny. We have not forgotten his vows of
eternal love, and his determination to declare them to the
Duchess of Savoy, on the very day when he was command-
ed by the duke to prepare for his departure for Lyons.
This young lady was still in the service of the noble house
which had nouiished her childhood ; but our hero could no
longer behold her with the ardent admiration of love. She
was the wife of another; she had given her heart to the
youth, but she could not oppose herself to the wishes of her
relatives and patron. The page was no longer at hand to
encourage and justify her resolution by the earnest pledge
of his own ; and though they had continued to correspond at
intervals, there is a something frigid in the warmest inter-
course by letter, which feebly answers to keep together
hearts which the hostile and neighboring world is striving
to put asunder. The letters of Bayard renewed his assur-
ances ; but she might well be taught to regard them only as
the becoming expressions of an honorable man, heedful
only of his word, when, perhaps, the heart of the writer
might gladly avail itself of the privilege of escape. She
could easily be persuaded to believe that the natural prog-
ress of his years and feelings, from those of boyhood to
maturity, — the excitements of the life which he led, — the
provocations of war and new companions, — were, in all

60 TOLERATION OF CHIVALRY.

probability, quite enough to render weak the influence
of the juvenile flame which she had inspired. These,
united, were considerations of force sufficient to cause her
to yield to the persuasions of another. She was now the
wife of the Lord of Fluxas, a gentleman of large fortune,
who had charge of the household and estates of the Duchess
of Savoy. She was still young, still beautiful, and still en-
tertained a warm affection for the page who had first won
her heart. The feelings of Bayard were no less tender;
his memory no less tenacious of those graces and virtues
which had first prompted him to love ; but the impassable
wall between them was one which neither of these pure,
young hearts had any desire or thought to overleap.

Her marriage had reached the ears of Bayard at the
time of its occurrence, and he had been very much affected
by the intelligence. But he had no reproaches, for, in his
own mind, he felt how much more eligible as a husband,
than himself, was the man whom she had taken ; and he
generously preferred her happiness to his own. Though
thus separated, the two never lost sight of each other ; and
the correspondence which they had continued at intervals
before her marriage, gave place, after that event, to the in-
terchange of an occasional gage d'amitie, such as it was
not improper for either party to offer and receive. She had
followed his fortunes with an eye which still declared her
heart's deep interest in his. None of his achievements had
escaped her, and it was easy to see, when they met, that
her marriage with another had not expelled him from her
affections. She gave him the tenderest reception, and he
trembled with all the renewal of his early passion as he
carried her hand to his lips. They did not scruple to
speak, in the hearing of all, of their past and even present
fondness for each other. No one seemed to think, indeed,
that the rights of the husband were at all outraged by such
admissions. Chivalry encouraged this sort of intercourse ;
its laws insisted upon it — its own vitality lay in its recogni-

PASSION SUBDUED BY CHASTITY. 01

tion ; and beautiful, indeed, with a strange seductive love-
liness, was the aspect which love put on, artificial to our
eyes, in the undress but studied simplicity of that peculiar
era. It was the growing prudence of a time in which chiv-
alry was dying out that had prevented their union. Their
passion had been more mature than their friends had es-
teemed it. It had survived their childhood, their separa-
tion, the thousand changing influences of a career full of ex-
citements, and the marriage, with another, of one of the par-
ties. To declare this was rather honorable than otherwise.
We are told that the Lady of Fluxas desired, as far as an
honest woman might, to let Bayard see that the love she had
borne him in former years had suffered no abatement. He
still returned, with all the feelings, to all the recollections of
the past. She reminded him of a thousand little anecdotes
which interested them both at the time, and which it gave
them equal pleasure once more to remember. His achieve-
ments contributed the chief topics of the lady, and of these
she appears to have cherished a much more copious cata-
logue than it will be in our power, with all our painstaking,
to gather from the musty chronicles. She suppressed noth-
ing of the admiration which she felt for himself and his
performances ; and in the simple ardor of a frank and gush-
ing heart, she allowed her own secretly-cherished passion to
become apparent to any who had eyes to see. But it was
in her perfect innocence of soul that she prattled, and the
soul of her listener was not less white than her own. The
heart of Bayard was chaste like that of a maiden. He could
sit beside the lady of his love, as in former days, speak her
praises and listen to his own without one evil emotion. He
could tell her how much the page had loved her, and how
happy it made him to believe that he was still honored by
her affections. Yet she was still young and very beautiful,
yielding, in the sweetness of her speech and the graces of
her manner, to no woman in the world. And her lips were
always pourino; forth his praises, and her eyes declaring, as

F

62 THE LADY ASKS A FAVOR.

plainly as eyes could declare, that he was still the object
of their fondest admiration. We shall not pretend to in-
quire if all this intercourse was proper, nor whether it was
consistent with the rights of others. We shall trouble our-
selves with no such prudery, but refer the question wholly
for solution to the period itself when such were deemed
very proper practices. Chivalry, in those days, sanctioned
such freedoms ; and we may add, that passion does not seem
often to have abused them. The husband looked on and
favored an intercourse, of the innocence of which he had
no question. It was probably a subject of some gratifica-
tion that he should have borne away the prize which was
so dear in the sight of the distinguished champion. At all
events, society had so arranged it that the possessor of the
treasure should have no cause of offence in the envy and
admiration of his neighbor. The Lady of Fluxas was per-
mitted free communion with her lover, and there was no
sort of secret of their affections. Conversing together, she
seemed pleased to bring him back to his exploits, from the
recital of which he always shrunk with a becoming modesty.
But she had her object in recurring to these topics. She
reminded him of his first passage-at-arms with Claude de
Vaudray, of the tourney which he won at Aire, in Picardy,
and finally of his behavior at the battle of Fornovo, which
was gradually spreading his name over France. She rec-
onciled him to these subjects by showing her own deep in-
terest in their recital. His heart was touched by these
proofs of her unfaltering memory, and her continued watch-
fulness of his career. His pride was gratified by her ad-
miration ; his spirit was roused by her glowing and eager
recitals. She saw the impression which she had made in
the kindling of his eye and the quivering of his lip, and
seized the moment to urge a prayer — the object of which
was to give him a new opportunity of distinction, and to
gratify her own pride by the exhibition of his prowess.
" Bayard, my friend, I have a favor to ask at your hands,

A TOURNEY PROPOSED. G3

and, I pray you, do not refuse me. You are now \vitli
those with whom you had the first lessons of your youth.
It were not seemly that you should depart without giving
them to behold some shows of that prowess in arms which
hath elsewhere made you famous. The Lady Blanche is
a great lover of the tournament. She would be enchanted
beyond expression if you would declare one at Carignan.
There are many gentlemen of the country who would de-
light to show themselves in the lists, and no doubt there
are many of your own Frenchmen whom a word from you
would summon to the encounter. Methinks the affair might
be made very brilliant and well worthy to be seen."

" Since you wish it," said Bayard, " the thing shall be
done. You are the first lady who ever won my heart to
her service, and your charms are still powerful to compel
my obedience. But I have also to ask of you a favor, as
a condition of my sendee."

" What is that, dear Bayard V

" I feel that you know I should ask of you nothing im-
proper," he continued, with a somewhat mournful voice
and manner. " Of you I well know I can have no higher
privilege than that of lips and hands,* and I should rather
die at your feet than by any presumption have the misfor-
tune to offend you. All that I ask for now, dear lady, is
one of your sleeves. For that I have present service."

This would seem an anti-climax ; but the reader must not
smile without a cause. A lady's sleeve in those days was
not kept for daws to peck at. It was a badge quite as dis-
tinguished as the garter of a countess has since become ;
and honi soit qui mal y pense may be quite as properly ap-
plied to one token as to the other. We need make no mys-
tery of the matter, and it is quite probable that the Lady of

* We must not misunderstand this expression. It alludes to the usual
terms of homage : hommage de bouche et des mains, which is done by a vassal
with the head uncovered, hands joined, and a kiss received ; and binds him
to fight for his lord only in defence of the land whereof he holds. — Cotgrave.

64 TERMS OF THE TOURNEY.

Fluxas — who cheerfully gave the sleeve — was perfectly con-
scious of the use to which it was to be put. Such a badge
was of great value in the eyes of the knight-errant. It was
worn by the champion to remind him of the charms of the
lady, to enable him to blazon them above the field, and to in-
spire his valor in asserting them against all opponents. In the
language of chivalry, this sleeve was termed a favor, a jewel,
or a token, and the wearer became, in courtly parlance, the
servant of love to her who gave it. That of the Lady of
Fluxas was conveyed into Bayard's doublet the moment he
received it, and no more was said of the matter. Thus con-
versing together the day was consumed. That night he sup-
ped with the Duchess of Savoy, and the repast was followed
by the dance. After this the noble lady kept him with her
till midnight, pleasantly recalling their mutual histories for
mutual edification. She then dismissed him to his couch,
but it was not to sleep. Bayard had food enough to keep
.him wakeful, if only in meditating the delicious memories
of his mistress. He employed the hours when he could
not sleep in arranging the conditions of the proposed tour-
ney. With the morning he was ready with his ordinance,
which he despatched, with sound of trumpet, to all the
neighboring towns. Most of these were strongly garrison-
ed, and their gentry, such as loved gallant exercises, were
invited to repair to Carignan four days after the coming
Sabbath, armed at all points, there to contend for a prize
which the Lord of Bayard offered, consisting of the sleeve
of his lady, garnished with a ruby worth a hundred ducats.
The victory was to rest with him who should " perform the
best at three strokes of the lance, without lists, and twelve
of the sword."

The tourney was duly advertised in all the contiguous
places in which champions were likely to be found. Fif-
teen cavaliers responded to the invitation. The Lady of
Fluxas was delighted at the promptitude of the knight,
and the Lady Blanche not less so. She made liberal prep-

THE GENTLE PASSAGE AT CARIGNAN, 65

arations for this " gentle passage." The grounds were as-
signed and set in readiness, the courses marked out, and
scaffolds were erected for the ladies. The day Drought
with it a large attendance. Crowds from all quarters
came to behold the gallant spectacle, while the little court
of our duchess put forth its gayest habiliments. In due
time the combatants made their appearance, and the
tourney began. Bayard was the first to present himself,
armed at all points, and attended by several of his own com-
rades. He found himself opposed by the Lord de Roua-
stre, a gallant gentleman, who bore the ensign of Duke
Philibert of Savoy. He was an expert champion, brought
up in a good school, and who knew how properly to use
his lance. At the first course, the lance of the Lord of
Rouastre was shivered by a handsome thrust ; but that of
Bayard was borne so steadily, and so well aimed at the
top of his enemy's great buff as to pierce it through and
completely to uncase him. New lances being furnished to
the champions, they ran the second course, in which the
results were pretty much what they had been before. The
spear of the Lord of Rouastre was again well aimed and
handsomely shivered ; while that of Bayard, smiting him
within the visor, knocked off his crest, and so staggered
him in his saddle as barely to suffer his escape unhorsed.
At the third passage, the Lord of Rouastre crossed his lance
very adroitly, while that of our young knight was shivered
bravely. They were succeeded by the lords of Mondra-
gon and de Chevron, who executed similar courses, and
these were followed by all the rest, who performed to the
satisfaction of the company. "We shall say nothing about
them, but confine ourselves to the individual champion.
At the close of the courses with the lance, this weapon was
thrown aside, and the combats were resumed with the
sword. The success of our young knight was even great-
er with this weapon than the spear. His own sword was
broken in the conflict, but, in the same moment, he made

F*

66 THE LADY'S SLEEVE.

that of his adversary fly from his grasp. The other cham-
pions contended in like manner, and with various degrees
of success. The spectators were delighted, and the tour-
ney wras ended only with the day. A supper followed at
the castle of the duchess ; after which came the hautboys.
The minstrels struck up their merriest preludes for the
dance, which was only suspended until the judges of the
tournament should confer the prize. These were the lords
of Grammont and de Fluxas. They took the voice of the
duchess and that of the other ladies and spectators, not
omitting that of the combatants themselves, and these unan-
imously decreed the victory to Bayard. The judges ac-
cordingly declared the award. He would have refused it;
but none of his pretexts being allowed, he said, " that if
he had done well, his performance was solely due to the
Lady of Fluxas, whose sleeve he had worn. The prize,
therefore, must be conveyed to her to be bestowed as she
thought fit."

This declaration surprised nobody. The Lord of Fluxas
himself, flattered rather than made jealous by the speech
of our knight, whose nobleness he knew, conveyed the
prize to his wife and repeated what her champion had
said. His lady was noways confused by the circumstance.
Smiling sweetly upon her champion, she thanked him for
the honor he had done her, and said " Since the Lord of
Bayard ascribes to my sleeve the merits of his victory, I
will keep it myself, and wear it all my life for his sake.
With regard to the ruby, since he will not accept it, I give
it to the Lord of Mondragon, who, after him, is thought to
have done the best."

Her decision met with general approbation. The prize
being given, the dancing commenced, and lasted till after
midnight. These sports continued for six days longer
at this brilliant little court, and each day served only to
increase the esteem and reputation which our good knight
nad already won. At length, the French gentlemen re-

BAYARD'S. MEMORY OF FORMER SERVICES. G7

turned to their several garrisons, and it became necessary
that Bayard should depart also. He had not passed his
time unprofitably, nor in sports wholly. One or two anec-
dotes are preserved of him which show how warmly he
felt, and how fondly he remembered former benefits. There
was, if the reader will remember, a groom in the household
of Duke Charles, one Pison de Chenas, who had rendered
Bayard dutiful service while in his apprenticeship, and
who had refused all compensation at the time, telling him
it would suffice when he, Bayard, had become famous. A
particular circumstance of the kind will be remembered as
occurring at the very moment when our young knight was
first about to exhibit his horsemanship before the king ; and
when, to encourage the groom in getting his horse in readi-
ness, he offered to present him with his dagger, which the
latter had refused. This man was still in the service of
the duchess. Bayard did not need to be reminded of his
former service. He sought him out, took him to his lodo--

o * o

ing where he entertained him handsomely, and then pre-
sented him with a horse worth fifty crowns. Hearing, from
the groom, that the ancient equerry to whom he had been
entrusted while with the Duke of Savoy, was now gouty
and infirm at Monte alier, he left for him, in trust with the
groom, a good and handsome mule. He thus always re-
quited the services of his friends, never forgetting in man-
hood the benefactors of his early years.

The Lady Blanche parted from our herewith reluctance.
She felt a becoming pride in having contributed to the train-
ing of so courtly and gallant a gentleman ; and the kind-
ness of her farewell was only another form of the sweetest
welcome. Bayard told her that " there was no prince or
princess in the world, after his own sovereign, to whose
service he was more devoted ; and declared the joy which
he should feel at being useful in her cause." She thanked
him with expressions of admiration, in which she was
echoed not only by her own household, but by the voices

68 DEPARTURE FROM CARIGNAN.

of the whole town of Carignan ; where, says the " loyal ser-
vant," nothing was talked of " for a month but the prowess,
honor, gentleness and courtesy of the good knight." His
parting with the Lady of Fluxas was equally tender on
both sides. He was greatly moved, and her tears were
freely shed. Their intercourse, always affectionate and
innocent, lasted till subdued by death ; and not a year pass-
ed without an interchange of gifts between them. It was
probably to this attachment that we may attribute the reso-
lution of our hero not to many. A heart like his, formed
for an attachment equally pure and tender, could only have
enjoyed life properly in the connubial state.

CHAPTER VII.

THE arms of France, meanwhile, had suffered some re-
verses in Italy. The force left to garrison the several towns
which had been taken by Louis XII. proved inadequate to
the purpose. Ludovic Sforza, who had been expelled
from Milan, fled to the Emperor Maximilian, whom he in
vain solicited for succors. Being not wholly without mon-
ey, however, he met with better success among the Swiss,
from whom he gathered an army of eight thousand men.
With this force and that of his own Italian levies he sud-
denly descended into Italy, and gradually repossessed him-
self of most of the cities of Milan. The inhabitants, weary
of the authority of the stranger, and chafed by the ex-
cesses which an invading and conquering army are always
more or less disposed to practice, opened their gates to
their ancient master, forgetting, with easy caprice, the for-
mer tyranny under the immediate. The capital city of
Milan itself was thus acquired through the treachery of the
citizens, with whom Sforza maintained a secret intelligence.
The French fought valiantly but vainly, and still kept pos-
session of the citadel, by which the town was commanded.
Driven out from other places, they retired slowly and sul-
lenly, holding their ground where they could, and looking
eagerly for those succors from France which were to re-
cover their lost possessions and avenge their shame. The
war, for a season, was that of the dagger and the lance.
The French gend'armerie occasionally dashed out upon a
convoy and carried off a courier, while the stiletto of the
Italian peasant took redress upon the sleeping or the strag-
gling Frenchman.

Such a mode of warfare could not long continue. The

70 THE FRENCH IN ITALY.

King of France was not disposed to relinquish his conquest.
Fresh levies were made, consisting of six thousand French
and ten thousand Swiss mercenaries. These, commanded
by the Count de Ligny and Trivulzio, were poured over
the Alps, and again threatened destruction to the House
of Sforza. But, in order not to lose sight of our young
knight, we must anticipate the arrival of these new troops,
and briefly glance at the condition of those which had just
been expelled from the cities of Milan. They had found
shelter in various contiguous places, in which they could post
themselves strongly, and there lay, impatient for the first
signs of the coming of their comrades to their relief. Bay-
ard, as we remember, had not left Italy. Seizing a mo-
ment of respite from war, he had paid the debt of grati-
tude to his former mistress ; but he had returned in season
to share in the vicissitudes of his countrymen. The re-
verses which the French had sustained were not even soft-
ened by the consciousness of a noble struggle. There had
been but little gallant fighting to which a brave captain
could refer for consolation after defeat. The towns had
risen and opened their gates to the forces of the enemy,
and treachery was made to do the work of valor. The
French knights burned with shame at their disasters, and
eagerly desired to avenge them. By none of them was
this passion more earnestly felt than by our young cheva-
lier. He had remained in Italy, at his own entreaty, in
anticipation of the return of Sforza, and of battles yet to be
fought. That the latter should return only to victory — that
the French should be defeated without conflict — was a
humiliation quite as unexpected to Bayard as it was
difficult to bear with patience. He was in garrison some
twenty miles from Milan, after Sforza had repossessed
himself of that capital ; and, in this position, he soon began
to display those talents of the partisan warrior by which he
afterward won such great distinction. The proximity of
the Italians kept the French wakeful. They had not the

BAYARD SEEKS ADVENTURE. 71

force to attempt any enterprises, but they kept themselves
in readiness for the performance, whenever opportunity
should offer, by the practice of all the military exercises
of the day. The tourney was their favorite pastime. Let
it not be conjectured that, because of the pomps and festiv-
ities which usually accompanied these sports, they were
mere pageants, the fruit of vanity, having no object but
personal display. Undoubtedly, an appeal was made to
the vanity of knighthood. But an important motive lay
beyond, and the pomps and festivities of the scene were
only meant to reconcile the timid to its real dangers and
severities. Hard blows were to be given and to be en-
dured. The tourney was the school of practice for the
gendarmerie, which, at this period, constituted the most
important part of a French army. It gave them the secrets
of the manege, made them masters of spear, sword and
battle-axe ; and, until the general adoption of firearms,
constituted them the true arbiters of every well -fought
field. ,

But though Bayard practised daily with his comrades
in all the usual exercises of the soldier, these by no means
sufficed to satisfy his courage. He longed for more im-
portant employment, and maintained a close system of
espionage upon the troops of the enemy. The small town
of Binasco lay at a little distance from his garrison. Upon
this place he kept his eye. It was held by a body of Ital-
ian horse, three hundred in number. One of his spies
brought him tidings which led to the conclusion that this
force might easily be defeated. The spy was probably a
traitor, and in the pay of the Italians also ; but the tempta-
tion offered by the prospect of combat was such as kept
our hero from any extreme incredulity. One morning, be-
times, he persuaded some forty or fifty of his companions
to join him in a visit to Binasco. They set forth full of
spirits; for already it was the case that the simple word of
Bayard was quite enough to inspire his comrades with

72 ENCOUNTERS THE ITALIANS.

confidence in his fortunes. Their inequality of number did
not make them doubtful ; for, in that day, it was usual with
the French knights, rating the Italians, to hold them as
humbly as, in after times, the British affected to hold the
French themselves. The captain at Binasco, whose name
was Cazache, was ready for them. He smiled grimly at
the approaching adventure. He was a brave fellow, well
practised in war, and always on the alert. He had been
apprised of the coming of our Frenchmen, and prepared
for the conflict, putting himself in a good posture of de-
ence, having drawn out his whole force a couple of bow-
shot from the gates of the town. The sm aline ss of the
party led by Bayard encouraged him, satisfied that his
troop was sufficient to overwhelm them. When, there-
fore, the French came on with the war-cry of, " France !
France !" they were nothing daunted, but answering with
"Moor! Moor!"* hurried to the encounter. The shock
was terrible ; but few of either party kept their saddles,
and many never recovered them again. Bayard was busy
all the while, solicitous only for the proper disposition of
his enemies. " Whoever had seen him," says one of his
biographers, " doing martial deeds, cutting off heads, and
hewing arms and legs, would have sooner taken him for a
wild lion of the forest than a tender-hearted lover." But
Cazache was not so easily overcome. Bayard and his
Frenchmen might do wonders, but the odds were very fear-
fully against them. The combat had already lasted more
than an hour, and the victory was still doubtful. Our young
knight felt the necessity of concentrating all his abilities on
a final effort. " How, my comrades," he cried to his coun-
trymen, "shall these keep us all day at work1? Let us
take heart and beat them off the field; for if those yet in the
town come to hear of it, we shall not one of us escape."
He did not wait for their answer — did not pause to see
whether he was supported or if he fought alone — but
" Sforza was so called on account of the darkness of his complexion.

PURSUES THE FOE INTO MILAN. 73

dashed forward with rare and reckless intrepidity upon
the masses of the Lombards. His comrades answered to
his call. His words, his voice, his desperate charge, carried
them forward as irresistibly as they did himself. Darting
all at once, headlong, upon the opposing ranks, they tore
the enemy asunder. These yielded, slowly at first, and
still disputing every inch of the ground. But the sharp and
repeated onslaughts of the French chivalry were not to be
withstood, and the retreat became a flight. Whether pre-
meditatedly or through terror, the fugitives made their way
toward Milan. It is probable that the French had con-
trived to throw themselves between them and Binasco.
The impulse to pursuit was irresistible. Smiting as they
flew, our Frenchmen drove their enemies before them.
Bayard, well mounted, with the wild impetuosity of his na-
ture, kept in advance of his troop. They cried to him to
return. He heard them not. They drew back, as the fugi-
tives rushed through the gates of Milan ; but he left them be-
hind him, and, unconscious that he was alone — unconscious
of any thing but that he was successfully striking at his foe —
he burst into Milan at the heels of the enemy, carrying
slaughter to the very palace of the duke. It was only
when he heard the clangor of the gates closing behind him
that he became conscious of the novelty and danger of his
situation. The three white crosses which he bore, the
badge of the French, announced him to the people of the
town as a foe. " Piglia ! piglia !" " Take him ! take him !"
was the cry of the citizens. Then it was that Cazache,
with his fugitives, turned upon him, and our young knight
was surrounded on every hand. He was yet a very youth-
ful and inexperienced warrior — certainly a rash one, and
not aware that, if courage is the wing of combat, prudence
is her eye and shield. He had yet much to learn of that
mixed audacity and caution which made him famous in
after-days, and which constitutes the great essential of the
partisan warrior. To oppose resistance to such a crowd as

G

74 BAYARD A CAPTIVE.

that by which he saw himself surrounded would be to
crown his rashness by a worse folly. He yielded, therefore,
with a becoming grace to Cazache, who was confounded to
find him so youthful. At this time he was not more than
twenty-three years old. Sforza, who had been disturbed
by the tumult, was soon made acquainted with the event.
The audacious gallant was conducted to the presence of
the duke. His appearance pleased Sforza. The modest
dignity of his bearing, the sweetness of his manner, the
grace and spirit of his replies, and the gentle mood with
which he resigned himself to fortune, were, in one so
young, equally new and grateful to his captor.

" Come hither," said the duke, " and tell me, young
gentleman, what it is hath brought you into this town."

" Faith, my lord," said Bayard, no ways daunted, " 1
did not think to enter it alone, and supposed that my com-
rades were at my back. But they were better soldiers
than myself, else they had shared my captivity. Howbeit,
my lord, with the exception of this mishap, I commend my
fortune which hath placed me in the hands of so good a
conqueror."

Sforza asked him to declare, upon his honor, the num-
ber of the troops in the army of the king of France.

" On my soul, my lord," was the ready answer, " they
consist of some fifteen hundred men-at-arms, and sixteen or
eighteen thousand foot. But they are picked men, and will
labor diligently till they secure this State of Milan for the
king, my master. It appears to me, my lord duke, that
you were quite as safe in Germany as here. Your people
cannot match with us in war."

The duke affected to be pleased with the boldness of this
reply, and no doubt was, so far as he thought of Bayard
himself; but the opinions which the latter gave were not
calculated to afford him pleasure ; and it required an effort
to enable him to say, jestingly, that he cared but little for
the boasted prowess of the French.

IS RELEASED BY SFORZA. 75

" On my honor, young gentleman," said he, " I have no
greater wish than to see our armies meet in battle, that
we may know to whom this territory rightly belongeth.
There seems to me no other way of settling our affairs."

" By my troth, my good lord," was the prompt reply of
Bayard, " and I would it were to-morrow, provided I
were out of these bonds."

Ludovic Sforza was capable of a generous action. The
youth's deportment had charmed him; and it was, perhaps,
his policy to appear magnanimous.

" Truly, it shall not stick there," he responded to the
ardent expression of our young knight, " for I set you free
from this moment. Ask what you will of me and it shall
be granted."

Bayard, equally surprised and delighted with this noble
courtesy, knelt in making his acknowledgements — knelt,
in the language of his contemporaries, " as was right" and
thus expressed himself:

" My lord, I can ask nothing further at your hands,
except that you will so far extend your courtesy as to
vouchsafe me my horse and arms, and grant me an escort
to my garrison, which is twenty miles from hence. You
have already done me a very great favor, for which I shall
be thankful all my life ; and so far as it may comport with
the service of the king, my master, and my own honor, I
shall be glad to obey you in whatever you may command."

The armor of Bayard was sent for, and Sforza made him
arm himself in his presence. His steed was brought, ready
saddled, into the court. When equipped, our young and
agile knight, with a buoyant heart, leapt upon him without
putting foot in stirrup. Then, asking for a lance, he raised
his visor and exclaimed, " My lord, I thank you for your
courtesy — may God requite you!" The scene took place
in a large and beautiful court. Bayard put spurs to his
horse, sending him forward in a succession of bounds, in
which he had practised him — then coursing him freely

76 REJOINS THE FRENCH.

around, he shivered the lance which had been given him
against the ground, as handsomely as if it had been the
breast of an enemy. All this was done in the presence
of Sforza, and by way of acknowledgment for his courte-
sy ; but it afforded little pleasure to that person, who
exclaimed :

" Verily, if all the French gens d'arms were such as this,
I should be at a fearful pass."

But he did not regret his liberality, or seek to recal the
gift of liberty which he had bestowed upon the youth.
This he might have done, at that period of faithlessness,
without incurring any reproach of his contemporaries. But
Sforza was in his better moods, and the noble bearing and
frank grace of our Chevalier, so unwonted in his eyes,
were not to be resisted. His departure was uninterrupted,
and under the escort of a trumpet he had gone but ten or
twelve miles from Milan, when he met, in full march,
the banners of his countrymen. The whole army of the
French was approaching. The news of his wild and
indiscreet valor, and his subsequent capture, had already
reached them. Their astonishment was great at his reap-
pearance. Instances of generosity like that of Sforza were
not looked for ; and nothing but money — or ransom corre-
sponding with the supposed value of the capture to his
friends — could ordinarily remove the knight's bonds. The
Count de Ligny came forth to meet the captive.

" Ah ! Piquet," he cried, laughingly, " who hath paid
your ransom ] How are you released from prison ? In
truth, I was about to despatch one of my trumpets to dis-
charge it."

Bayard recounted the particulars of all that had taken
place. Trivulzio, one of the generals of the army, then
inquired whether there were any hopes, from what he saw
or heard, that Sforza would give them battle. The young
knight answered —

" Truly, my lord, he let me not so far into his councils,

SPORZA ABANDONED BY HIS TROOPS. 77

but he looks like one whom it is not easy to daunt. Yet a
few days must determine, as most of his troops are in
Novara, and he hath resolved upon joining them there, or
sending for them to Milan. For my part, I must not speak
ill of him, for he hath behaved well and honorably toward
me!"

In a few days Sforza was himself a prisoner, without,
however, experiencing any of that generosity of which he
had just given so grateful an example. But Bayard has
no share in this reproach. The French moved immedi-
ately forward upon Milan. Its citadel was already in
then- hands. The heart of Sforza failed him at their ap-
proach. He was badly served by his troops, and the vari-
ous nations of which his army was composed afforded good
reason to make him doubtful of their fidelity. His watch
must have been badly kept to have suffered the French to
appear within striking distance while their approach was
totally unsuspected. The unhappy duke fled by night
from Milan, leaving but a few troops with his brother,
Cardinal Ascanio. He made his way to the main body
of his forces at Novara, whither the French pursued him.
He was destined to be overcome by that very treachery
which had been his own favorite and frequent policy. The
Swiss in his service had again sold themselves. At the
moment when he required their fidelity they abandoned
him. His forces were superior in number to the French,
and he led them out of Novara for the purpose of doing
battle, confident of success. His array was drawn forth for
this purpose, yet, when the signal was about to be made, the
lansquenets refused to fight against their countrymen who
were in the ranks of the enemy. The French, meanwhile,
marching to the charge, the Milanese army surrendered
without striking a blow. The unfortunate prince attempt-
ed his escape by disguising himself, and mingling in the
ranks of his soldiers — his followers having first circulated
a report that he was already fled and on his way to Ger-

G*

78 SFORZA A CAPTIVE.

many. But the same treachery which had betrayed his
seignorial rights most probably betrayed his person. The
method of his disguise was no doubt indicated to the French
general, who made the vanquished army pass under the
pike, and thus detected the unhappy fugitive. The fates
decided against him, though he kept an astrologer in his
pay, and had marched into the field with the fullest as-
surances of victory. After an eventful history, he was
about to be made secure against future vicissitudes. His
career had been of a kind distinguished by crime and.
treachery no less than courage and talent, which was sup-
posed to justify the severity which he encountered among
the French. Conveyed to the Castle of Loches, in the
duchy of Bern, he was kept in a magnificently cheerless
prison, where he contrived to amuse the hours of weari-
ness by covering the walls of his chamber with rude draw-
ings from scripture, done in charcoal. But this sort of
employment failed him at last ; and he languished thus for
ten years, alive but scarcely living, and only released from
his prison when released from life. His generosity to our
young knight makes us willing to forget his crimes and
errors ; and, in sympathizing with his misfortunes, we al-
most persuade ourselves that he did not deserve them.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE French recovered the cities of the Milanese as rap-
idly as they had been lost, and with quite as little fighting.
The inhabitants, who dreaded nothing more than being
sacked and plundered, were as eager in their submission
to Louis XII. as they had been to Sforza. In the in-
vasion of Italy by Charles VIII. , that monarch had dis-
tributed the captured towns among his favorites. To the
Count de Ligny had been given Tortona, Loghiera, and
sundry other places. They had, like Milan, availed them-
selves of the approach of Sforza to throw off the yoke of
the French ; and, in the final overthrow of the former, they
naturally expected the penalties due to revolting subjects.
When, therefore, they heard of the near approach of the
Count de Ligny, breathing fire and sword, they were seized
with the greatest consternation. The count was accom-
panied by his famous lieutenant, Louis D'Ars, and his
standard was borne by our good knight, Bayard. When
at Alessandria, he declared his resolution to yield Tortona
and Loghiera to his soldiers for pillage, though without
really entertaining such a purpose. His scheme was simply
to alarm the fears of a people, whose habitual levity made
them too easily forgetful of the salutary lessons of defeat.
His secret feelings were known to his lieutenant, who was
permitted to act as advocate for his repentant subjects.
They came to him from these towns, formidable deputa-
tions, clad in garments of humility and entreating mercy.
They met him when within two miles of Loghiera, and be-
gan their excuses of former faithlessness, with fresh assur-
ances of fidelity. But the count passed on, without seeming

80 V^E VICTIS.

to have seen or heard them. This increased their terrors,
and they addressed themselves to Louis D'Ars, who prom-
ised to solicit their forgiveness. He succeeded in obtaining
the desired audience, and fifty of the principal citizens
appeared at the lodgings of the count, bareheaded, and
threw themselves at his feet, entreating " mercy." One of
their chief men then addressed him very eloquently, be-
seeching forgiveness. He acknowledged the crime of which
they had been guilty, but pleaded their inability to hold
out against the armed forces of Sforza. Their affections,
he said, had always been, and still were, with the French.
Their offence, at worst, had been their timidity; and this
he promised should never again conduct them to a similar
trespass. He put their wives, children and possessions at
the disposal of the count, as a guaranty for their future
conduct, and concluded by tendering a present of silver
plate, to the value of three hundred marks.

The basins, cups and goblets, covering two tables, were
produced and spread before the angry captain. But he
deigned them not a single glance. It was necessary that his
part should be played out as he had begun it ; and, with fury
in his accents, he demanded how they dared present them-
selves before him, supposing it possible that he should
pardon. " Have you not, without cause or provocation,
but like traitors and cowards as ye are, revolted at the
first appearance of the enemy. How can I believe in you
again. Had your town been assaulted, had you made
good fight, it had been another thing ; but you waited not
even that the enemy should show his face. If I served you
right, you should now, each of you, be hanging at your
own windows. Away with you. Let me never see you

more.'1

Here Captain Louis D'Ars, taking off his cap, judi-
ciously and humanely interposed. " My lord, for the honor
of God and his passion, let me entreat you to pardon this
people. Grant this boon to me, as I have promised that

THE GIFTS OF BAYARD. 81

you would, and I trust that you will find them true and
faithful henceforward." The deputation, with one voice,
echoed the promise of fidelity which the captain had made
for them. The count had already forgiven them in his
heart. Their tears and humiliation provoked his pity,
and, almost weeping himself, he bade them rise.

"Go," said he; "the entreaties of my lieutenant have
won your forgiveness. His services to me might well
obtain for him a much greater matter. Go ; you are par-
doned, but beware how you err again. As for your present,
you deserve not that I should take it at your hands. Pi-
quet!" addressing Bayard, "Take this plate — all of it —
I give it you for your kitchen."

If the astonishment of the deputation was great at this
scornful rejection of so rich a gift, the reply of Bayard was
productive of still greater surprise in the mind of the count
himself, not less than of all other spectators.

" I thank you, my lord, for the favor you would do me,
but God forbid that the goods of such wicked people should
enter my house. They would bring me ill luck."

This said, he took the several vessels, piece by piece,
and distributed them among the spectators, reserving noth-
ing for himself. The deputation disappeared in doubt and
wonderment, and Bayard followed them. When he had
left the apartment, the Count de Ligny exclaimed, " What
say you, my lords, to this spirit of Piquet 1 Hath not for-
tune done him great wrong in not making him the monarch
of some mighty realm 1 He would then have won the
whole world by his magnificence. Believe me, he will yet
become one of the most perfect characters on earth."

The admiration of the count was not affected. He was
determined that the generosity of Bayard should not leave
him bare, and the next day sent him a beautiful dress of
crimson velvet, an excellent horse, and a purse of three
hundred crowns. The money was instantly shared with
his comrades. It was the distinguishing merit of his chiv-

82 THE ARMY AGAINST NAPLES.

airy that in all cases it rose superior to self. No accusa-
tion of ingratitude, of a want of liberality or magnanimity,
could be laid to his account. To divide his purse with his
friend — with the stranger — to yield himself up to the ne-
cessities of others, and to betray the profoundest scorn and
contempt for most of the objects of human avarice, was
simply to be himself, and to behave according to the most
natural impulse of his soul. The examples are continually
occurring of his indifference to money. At the moment
when he rejected the splendid present of the Count de
Ligny he had not ten crowns in the world, and knew not
where he could procure them !

This invasion of Milan had afforded our young knight
but small chance for distinguishing himself. The Count
de Ligny soon returned to Milan; and the conquered cities
being once more quiet, he returned to France, accompanied
by our man-at-arms, who was, if we remember, not only
of his regiment, but of his household. Here he remained
until the preparations of Louis XII. had been completed
for the attempted recovery of his Neapolitan dominions.
We have already briefly narrated the events connected
with the expulsion of the French from Naples and the
other places where the feeble policy of Charles VIII. had
insulated them, and where his follies and superstitions had
left them the sacrifice to his indifference and neglect. The
invasion, which he consumed the last days of his life in medi-
tating only, — his successor, with undeviating perseverance,
applied himself to attempt. How he strove to secure the
support or the quiescence of other sovereigns has been
shown already. His precautions taken, his preparations
made, the army of the French monarch, consisting of ten
thousand foot and one thousand horse, approached Italy,
under the command of Stuart d'Aubigny. This command
had been earnestly solicited by the Count de Ligny. He
supposed himself to have particular claims to be preferred.
His interests were considerable in the kingdom of Naples.

PARTITION OF NAPLES. 83

He had married a lady of that country, and by her, and by
the gifts of Charles VIII., he was the proprietor of lands in
Puglia, Venosa, and other places, the whole constituting
a very large pecuniary interest. Denied the command
which he desired, he is thought to have sunk under the
mortification. The event is supposed to have shortened
his days ; and when Bayard obtained his leave to join the
company under Louis d'Ars, he separated from his patron
never to behold him again.

At this period Frederigo, king of Naples, was in close
alliance with Spain. He never dreamed of the secret
treaty between the selfish and faithless monarch of that
country and the King of France. On the contrary, so as-
sured was he of the fidelity of the former, that his troops
and fortified places were confided, on the approach of the
French, to the Spanish general — the celebrated Gonsalvo
de Cordova — the Great Captain, as he was proverbially
known among the Spaniards — a warrior of unquestionable
excellence and genius — of equal courage and conduct, but
one who proved as faithless as his master. Fidelity was
not in those days the virtue of knighthood, and hence the
superior lustre with which the qualities of Bayard distin-
guished his valor. But we must not anticipate.

All Italy was suspended in tremulous anxiety at the ap-
proach of the French army. They were led by one of the
most experienced leaders of his time, and opposed to one
of the most renowned, with numbers so nearly equal, and
forces so equally excellent, none but the most bloody issues
could be expected from the encounter. But the entrance
of the French troops into the territories of the Church dis-
pelled all anxiety. The envoys of the allied monarchs
met at Rome, where they announced their treaty, and de-
clared the division of the kingdom of Naples between them.
A pontifical bull deprived Frederigo of his kingdom, and
the forces under Gonsalvo abandoned his defence. Fred-
erigo still held out, but hopelessly. The defence of Naples

84 CAPUA TAKEN BY ASSAULT.

was entrusted to Prospero Colorma, a very distinguished
Italian captain; and the first trial of strength was made at
Capua, which was taken by assault. The capitulation of
Naples soon followed ; and Frederigo, in despair of his
throne, exchanged it for a duchy, and became a pensioner
of France.

The war had again failed of its promise to our young
knight. We have no means of knowing what part he took
in the storming of Capua, or whether he was or was not
present. We may safely assert that he did not participate
in the sack which followed, and the guilty excesses which
are charged upon the French soldiery when they were
once in possession of the city. The excitement of battle is
a species of madness which, in the instance of mere brute
valor, is ajmost without responsibility. The terrors of a
storm must heighten amazingly the insanity of ordinary
combat. It is scarcely possible to suppose such an event
without assuming the continuance of violence and passion
long after the absolute necessity is over, by which they
have been provoked and justified. At all events, the sub-
ordinate position of our young knight saved him from any
share in the responsibility of a command on this occasion ;
and we know enough already of his character to feel very
sure that he himself indulged in none of the excesses of his
troops.

The conquest of the realm of Naples being fully
achieved, the army of the French was broken up into small
bodies and distributed throughout the conquered territo-
ries. The command of the Count de Ligny was quartered
upon the seignorial domain of that lord — a possession which
he had acquired by right of his wife, Elinor de Baux,
princess of Altamira. The count had espoused this lady
in the brief period during which Charles VIII. had held
his court in Naples ; and when the French were compelled
to abandon their conquests, the departure of her husband
is said to have caused her death. The protector of these

FRENCH AND SPANIARDS QUARREL. 85

v

domains was especially confided by his captain to the vigi-
lance and courage of our young knight, who acquitted
himself of the trust to the general satisfaction.

Meanwhile, the royal plunderers quarrelled over their
prey. The division of the spoils was a subject of more
difficulty to the French and Spaniards than their acquisition
had been. In the partition of the country it appears that
they had not sufficiently known the landmarks, or that they
were now pleased to misconceive them. The claims of the
Spanish monarch were urged tenaciously by Gonsalvo,
while those of France were as warmly upheld by Louis
d'Armagnac, duke de Nemours, who asserted the general
rights of his sovereign as king of Naples, and maintained
his arms in that country. Negotiations followed, but with-
out any good result, and the dispute resulted in open hos-
tilities between the allies. Italy was again made to trem-
ble at the trial of strength, on her own fields, between
the rival houses of Anjou and Arragon. Gonsalvo had
anticipated this issue, and had kept himself in readiness
for it.

The French, on the other hand, had received a reinforce-
ment of two thousand Swiss and a body of Gascons, and
were somewhat stronger, numerically, than the Spaniards.
To compensate this inequality, the latter were more cer-
tainly in possession of the popular sympathies, in spite of
the treachery of their master to the late sovereign of Italy.
The excesses of the French troops and their Swiss merce-
naries, had most effectually weaned from them the affec-
tions of the Italians. The viceroy of Louis XII., the Duke
de Nemours, was now pitted against Gonsalvo. D'Aubig-
ny, second in command, but the best officer, marched with
a division into Calabria, while Louis himself, the French
monarch, hurried from Lyons to Milan, where he tarried
to watch the progress of a game, for the issue of which he
was naturally anxious.

The opening of the war was greatly favorable to the

H

86 SIEGE OF BARLETTA.

French. Gonsalvo was forced to relinquish all the places
of which he held possession, and to retire for safety to the
town of Barletta, where he was soon closely besieged by
the Duke de Nemours. Similar successes attended the
progress of D'Aubigny, who, having taken and sacked the
city of Cosenza, defeated a large body of Spanish and Si-
cilian troops, overrun with his forces the rest of the king-
dom, to all of which, having full possession, Louis asserted
his claim, without regard to his previous treaty stipulations.
With his troops everywhere triumphant, and with the
strongholds of the country everywhere in their hands, the
French monarch returned to his own country in full confi-
dence of the complete expulsion of the Spaniards. But
the obstinacy of this people, and of the captain to whom
they were confided, rendered this confidence more and
more doubtful every day. The siege of Barletta was a
protracted one, calculated to wear out the patience of an
ardent and impetuous soldiery such as the Duke de Ne-
mours commanded. Its monotony was relieved, however,
by the frequent passages-at-arms which took place between
the opposing forces. Many of these were of a character
as brilliant as any which the chroniclers of chivalrous times
have put on record. The defence of Barletta itself was an
instance of amazing patience, courage, prudence and self-
denial; showing instances of skill, heroism and audacity
which could not be surpassed, and contributing one of the
most enduring chaplets in the wreath of the Great Captain.
The great events of the field were varied by those in which
individual combatants alone performed. These were equal-
ly singular from the fierceness of the duel and the chivalric
courtesy with which the champions coupled their animosity.
For a brief period the age of feudal romance was restored,
and the grace and splendor of the strife were quite equal to
its terrors and its blood. Holding keen watch in garrison
near Barletta, at a place called Monervino, some of these
events concern our hero. He was not the last to fly to the

BAYARD SEEKING ADVENTURES. 87

summons of the trumpet ; and here it is that his character
began first to receive the appreciation of other nations than
his own.

There had been an interval of repose and inactivity
somewhat longer than was usual, when Bayard expressed
his impatience to his comrades.

" Gentlemen," said he one day to his troopers, " we are
likely to become very worthless in this state of sluggish-
ness and inactivity. We shall impart courage to our ene-
mies by our seeming want of it. I am sick of this idling.
Let us go out to-morrow and stir up the Spaniards. Be-
tween this place and Andri, or B arietta, we may happen
upon some of their detachments, and then the victory to
whom God shall please to give it !"

These words were quite acceptable to his companions.
Under such a leader, glory was a specific something in
itself, and apart from any considerations of duty. Bayard
had infused something of his own spirit into the bosoms
of his followers ; and a single word from him, which prom-
ised adventure, promised achievement and triumph also.
By dawn his little force was ready, some thirty in number,
the good knight at their head, and on the road, with all
possible speed, for the garrisons of the enemy. Fortune
favored their desires. They had not covered half the space
between Monervino and Andri when they met a body of
Spaniards, something larger than their own, commanded
by a gentleman of distinction, one Don Alonzo de Soto-
mayer, a near relation of the "Great Captain" himself.
The followers of Sotomayer were all chosen men. He
himself ranked as a man of skill and valor, not less than as
a gentleman of noble blood. It was with mutual if not
equal satisfaction, that the opposing captains discovered
each other about cannon-shot distance, and on the descent
of opposite hills.

"And now," said the "Good Knight," closing his visoi
and putting his lance in rest, " let each man take care of

88 ENCOUNTERS THE SPANIARDS.

his own honor, and if I do not my devoir this day call me
ever after a braggart and a coward."

He was answered with lively cries of satisfaction.
With shouts of " France ! France !" as the war-cry on one
side, and " Santiago" on the other, the two opposite par-
ties, without farther preliminaries, darted at once to the
embrace of battle. The first reckless shock of horse and
man overthrew several of the combatants. Both sides
were borne down to the earth by the irresistible impulse,
and some of them were raised with difficulty by their com-
rades. The fight was long and doubtful. If the French
were terrible in the charge, the capacity of the Spaniards
for endurance was equally remarkable. To the furious
impulse of the one was opposed the obstinate firmness of
the other. For nearly an hour so near were the parties
matched, that neither might exult with hope or droop with
apprehension. It was left for the indomitable valor and
skill of our young knight to determine the struggle. His
unreckoning will, his hearty onset, his glorious cry, re-
newed the impulse of his first onset; and, leading the way,
the French broke through the serried ranks of the enemy.
Seven of the Spaniards lay dead upon the field, as many
more were already prisoners, when the rest took flight —
their captain at the rear of the fugitives. Bayard led the
pursuit close at his heels, and ever and anon he taunted
him with a speech somewhat after this fashion :

" Turn thee, cavalier, if thou be'st a man. Let me
not strike thee on thy back. Great will be thy shame, if
thou shalt die flying. Better a thousand deaths than a
flight so disgraceful !"

The sting was felt of these reproaches. Besides, the
peril was imminent. Don Alonzo de Sotomayer turned
like an enraged lion upon his keen assailant, and though
abandoned by his surviving followers, who still continued
their flight, he rushed fiercely a second time into the bat-
tle. The comrades of Bayard passed forward in pursuit.

MAKES CAPTIVE THEIR LEADER. 89

No one thought to interfere between these champions.
The French men-at-arms knew their leader and had no
fear of the result, though the Spanish captain fought
with great skill and resolution. But the strength of his
steed began to fail him. More than fifty strokes of the
sword had been given and received by the combatants.
Enough had been done by the Spaniard to maintain his
honor. Bayard perceived the increasing weakness of his
arm and the failing vigor of his steed.

" Yield thee, man-at-arms, or thou diest."
" To whom shall I yield me ]" demanded the Spanish
knight.

The name of Bayard concluded the combat. Don
Alonzo dropped the point of his weapon. The valiant
deeds of our young hero, — his reputation for generosity
and honor, already well known to the Spaniards, — recon-
ciled his enemy to the submission which was demanded.
Bayard had reason to be pleased with his victory. Not a
man of his party had been slain, though several were
wounded. Some of their horses were killed in the melee ;
but the consolation of the Frenchmen was found in the
fact that they had prisoners whose ransom would amply
repay them all their losses.

H*

CHAPTER IX.

CAPTIVITY in the hands of such a foe as Bayard, whom
the " Loyal Servant" describes as the " adopted son of
Dame Courtesy," but whom we should prefer to call her
natural son, implied no humiliations and tasked no great
powers of endurance. Our young knight accorded to Don
Alonzo de Sotomayer one of the handsomest apartments
in his household, supplied his wardrobe, and, upon the
pledge of honor of the captive not to quit the castle, gave
him the entire freedom of the garrison, putting no guard
upon his footsteps. He took his pleasure with the French-
men as if he had been one of them, and was treated on
all hands with a kindness and consideration which might
well have disarmed his situation of all its oppressive
features. After a brief conference on the subject with his
captor, Don Alonzo agreed to pay a thousand crowns for
his ransom. This was rating him nobly, as belonging to

THE CAPTIVE VIOLATES HIS PAROLE. 91

a distinguished house, and as being himself a very distin-
guished person. It does not appear, however, that any
body considered the ransom high.

Our Spaniard did not appreciate the courtesy of his
captor. At all events he abused it. He determined to
avail himself of the liberty he enjoyed, to realize the sense
of perfect freedom. Some weeks after he had been in
the castle, passing his time, as it was thought, very pleas-
antly and in good spirits, going forth and returning when
it suited him, and suffering neither reproof nor restraint
from any, he determined to corrupt one of the grooms of
the garrison, an Albanian, named Theodrick. He said to
this man — " I am weary of this captivity and of hearing
nothing from my people. Serve me in making my escape,
and I will make you comfortable for life. Get me a horse
in readiness that I may escape. I am under no watch and
can readily elude suspicion. You can join me in flight,
and four hours will put us both in safety in our garrison.
Do this, and you shall have fifty ducats, with a handsome
yearly salary."

The Albanian swallowed the bait, but suggested the
danger to the Spaniard from the violation of his pledge.

"You are upon honor in the castle, and our captain
would make it a quarrel with you, were you to break faith
with him."

" I break no faith with him," answered Don Alonzo.
" He hath agreed upon a thousand crowns for my ran-
som, and he shall have them. I am bound for nothing
farther."

" Very well," said the Albanian, " the horse shall be
ready at the castle gate at break of day. When the gate
opens, contrive to go forth as in pursuit of your diversion,
and you will find me waiting."

With the morning, under the pretext of taking the air,
Don Alonzo \vas permitted to depart. He found no
difficulty in doing so ; for, apprised that he was on his

92 IS PURSUED AND TAKEN.

pledge of honor, the porter no longer took any heed of
his movements. The Albanian and the horse awaited him
in the place appointed, and they rode away together to-
ward the garrison of Andri.

Whether Don Alonzo really designed to defraud his
captor of the stipulated ransom, or was simply impatient
of the delay in procuring it, must be left wholly to con-
jecture. It was doubly unfortunate that he was not suc-
cessful in his treachery. It was not long after his flight,
when Bayard descended into the lower court of the castle,
and missing the captive, whom he was wont to converse
and walk with every morning, he naturally asked after
him. Something excited his suspicions, and being always
vigilant, he pressed his inquiries with some earnestness,
and learned from the porter that the Spanish knight had
gone through the gate as soon as it was opened. Farther
inquiry discovered the absence of Theodrick and his horse,
arid then it was that Bayard conjectured the flight of his
thousand crowns. Indignant at the faithlessness of one
whom he had treated with so much confidence and cour-
tesy, he called up one of his officers named Le Basque,
whom he despatched with ten men in pursuit. His in-
structions were sufficiently prompt. " Ride full speed
towards Andri, and bring back the fugitive alive or dead.
Seize the Albanian also if you can. He shall hang on our
battlements as a warning to other traitors." Le Basque
obeyed instantly, and shaping his course towards Andri,
he overtook the Spaniard within two miles of that place.
He had alighted to readjust his saddle-girths, which were
broken, but had not succeeded in repairing them, when
the pursuers came in sight. He immediately strove to
remount, but in vain. They surrounded him before he
could divest himself of the useless saddle. The Albanian
had, with becoming prudence, separated himself from the
fugitive, and escaped his fate. Don Alonzo was without
means of defence, and what could they have availed

DE SOTOMAYER RANSOMED. 93

against a dozen men. He was caught, put on his horse
once more, and brought back in shame to Monervino.

The reproaches of Bayard were not spared as he beheld
the prisoner. He did not seek to conceal his scorn and in-
dignation.

" How, seiior," he exclaimed, " call you this the action
of a gentleman ] Is it thus you esteem your word 1 Did
you not pledge me to remain within the castle until I per-
mitted your departure 1 I can confide in you no longer."

The Spaniard denied that he intended to wrong his
captor of the amount of the ransom. Within two days it
should have been sent him. He had gone for that purpose,
and because of the great trouble which he felt at not having
heard from his people.

These excuses did not satisfy our knight, whose sense of
punctilio was outraged by a violation of faith so discredita-
ble to every claim of knighthood. The thousand crowns
were nothing in comparison with the voluntary forfeiture
of honor of which the captive had been guilty — his indif-
ference to the most sacred pledges, and his abuse of hospi-
tality and courtesy. The Spaniard enjoyed no longer the
privilege of the household. He was conducted to a lonely
tower, where he was kept safely but with good accommo-
dations. He was well provided, as before, with food and
drink, and though closely watched, was neither ironed rioi
subjected to any annoyance beyond the constraint and con-
finement which his own wilfulness had rendered necessary.
At the end of fifteen days a trumpeter brought his ransom.
In his own presence, Bayard distributed the whole amount
among his comrades, reserving not a penny for himself.
Don Alonzo took leave of his captors with due civility,
making no complaints at the time, and as it was supposed
by all, having no right to make any. But he was sore at
heart, and very soon gave utterance to griefs which he im-
properly entertained, and to which he too readily gave a
tongue. His reception among his comrades at Andri was

94 SLANDERS BAYARD.

very grateful to his feelings. His relations and friends
were there, and his rank in the Spanish army was such that
his absence had been seriously felt. Esteemed for his rela-
tionship to the " Great Captain," his own passion for arms,
and his success in their use, had led to large expectations
of his future prowess. But these very expectations had
rendered his captivity the more mortifying to his pride.
His self-esteem was deeply outraged at what he deemed
the humiliation of defeat. The attempts of his friends to
give him consolation only opened the avenues to his dis-
quietude, and he allowed himself to speak of his captors in
a manner neither just to them nor honorable to himself.
When asked by those about him as to the person of Bayard,
his manner of life, and the manner of his own treatment,
he so seasoned the falsehood with truth as to substitute for
his own the faults of others.

" With regard to the Lord Bayard," he would say,
"there is not a bolder or more active gentleman in the
world. He is constantly busy. When not engaged in
actual warfare, he is still doing something in his garrison,
by which to improve it and the soldiers who keep it. His
exercises are constant in wrestling, leaping, throwing the
bar, and other sports, such as are becoming to the exercise
of gentlemen. In liberality he hath no equal. This I
know from a thousand instances. The money which he
received for my ransom I saw him distribute among his
people, keeping not a ducat for himself. In short, to speak
truly, he is a man who, if he but live long, will rise to very
great eminence. As for his treatment of myself, concern-
ing which you question me, I frankly say that I can not
exceedingly commend it. Whether by his orders or not,
his people have treated me with rudeness, and not as if I
were a gentleman, and their indignities will stick with me
as long as I live."

This account of a cavalier who was already proverbial
for his humanity and courtesy, surprised such of the hearers

BAYARD'S INDIGNATION. 95

of Don Alonzo as knew Bayard's reputation for these qual-
ities. Some yielded implicit faith to the statements of the
Spaniard. Others censured him, and others again ascribed
the mood in which he spoke to the natural dislike which all
persons are apt to feel for their gaoler. But the subject
was a chief topic of conversation at the time in the town
of Andri, and the discussion finally reached the ears of a
French officer who was then a prisoner in the place. On
the return of this officer to Monervino he told Bayard that
Don Alonzo complained bitterly of the ill-treatment he had
received at his hands, and dealt freely in threats of a sort
not to be misunderstood among gentlemen. Bayard was
equally vexed and astonished at this statement, and imme-
diately called his followers around him. He told them in
what sort of statements his late captive indulged, and
demanded of them if he had done any thing, or left
any thing undone in the treatment of his prisoner which
rendered it necessary that he should offer him atone-
ment.

" You all," said he, " know this history. In my opinion
no prisoner could have been better treated before he sought
to make his escape ; nor, when it was necessary that we
should more closely confine him, does it appear to me that
he had any thing to complain of. Tell me if you have
discovered any thing which hath not come to my knowl-
edge, and, on my honor, if he hath suffered any wrong I
will make him honorable amends."

Their reply was instant and unanimous. With one
voice they answered that if Don Alonzo had been the first
prince of the blood he could not have been treated with
more kindness and indulgence. They pronounced it a
shame and an outrage that he should utter any complaints.
Their reply reassured our knight. He was even then suf-
fering from an attack of the quartan ague, but this condi-
tion did not chill his courage. " Faith," said he, " I will
write and tell him that if he asserts that he hath been ill-

96 HE DEMANDS REDRESS.

treated by me, I will prove, by force of arms, that he hath
greatly erred in his assertion."

The cartel soon followed this resolution. It ran thus :
" Senor Don Alonzo, — It hath reached me that, since your
release from prison, you complain of me among your peo-
ple, and allege that while in my hands you were not treat-
ed as a gentleman. You, senor, very well know the con-
trary ; but seeing, if it were believed, what you have
said, I should be greatly discredited, I have thought fit
to write and to entreat that you will readjust your state-
ments in the hearing of those to whom they were origi-
nally made. It is only right that you should confess the
good and honorable treatment which you have had at my
hands, and by so doing you will equally consult your honor
and redress mine. If you refuse to do this, know that I am
resolved to compel you to this justice by force of arms,
your person in mortal conflict against mine, on foot or on
horseback, in what manner shall please you best. And so,
farewell."

The answer of the Spaniard was a defiance.* He wrote :
" Lord of Bayard, — I have read your letter by the bearer,
charging that I had let fall words in the presence of my
people importing that you did not treat me as a gentleman
while I was your prisoner. You add your determination
to fight with me unless I make recantation. I declare to
you, sir, that I never unsay what I have once said, and you
are not the man to make me do it. In regard to the com-
bat you offer, I accept it — to meet you within twelve or
fifteen days hence, two miles from the town of Andri or
wherever else it may suit yourself."

The answer was brought back by La Lune, a trumpeter
of the Lord de la Palisse, by whom it had been conveyed.

* Quintana tells us that Don Alonzo would have declined the meeting,
but that he was compelled to it by his relative, the Great Captain, who told
him that " he should atone for what he had said by the glory of the combat,
or else suffer the chastisement he deserved for his injurious expressions." —
El Gran Capitan.

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. 97

Its tenor was so grateful to our hero that, sick as he was,
he would not for ten thousand crowns have had it more
pacific. He immediately despatched his trumpet, with his
acceptance of the combat, together with the period and place
which the other had proposed. The terms adopted he com-
municated to the Lord de la Palisse, who was lieutenant of
the Duke de Nemours, entreating permission for the com-
bat, which was granted without hesitation. For his gui-
don* after God, he took his old friend and comrade, Bel-
labre, — the same under whose counsel he succeeded in as-
sessing the excellent abbot, his uncle, for his field and per-
sonal equipments in his first passage-of-arms with Claude de
Vaudray. Bellabre, we may say in this place, had subse-
quently shown himself as excellent a soldier as he then
proved himself a politician.

The day soon came for the combat. The Lord de la
Palisse was the keeper of the field on the part of our cheva-
lier. He appeared accordingly, accompanied by two hun-
dred gens d'armes, in compliance with the particulars of the
arrangement already made by the seconds of the parties.
Bayard was conducted by him to the place of meeting,
mounted on a handsome courser, arid clad in white in token
of humility — a fact which will help somewhat to illustrate
the changes of social custom and the singular caprices of
fashion. His enemy had not yet made his appearance.
The trumpeter, La Lune, was sent forward to hasten him.
Of La Lune he asked in what manner the Lord of Bayard
had taken the field 1 When told on horseback and as a
gend'arme, " How say you ?" he cried, " Go to him, trum-
peter, and tell him that I prefer to fight on foot. The choice
of weapons is mine." This decision was irregular. The
terms of the combat had been already arranged by the sec-
onds, arid they were to fight on horseback. The right now
claimed by Don Alonzo, to vary the conditions of the field,

* Literally, standard-bearer — but probably his guide, companion, friend
on the field — equivalent to the second of our times.

I

98 TERMS OF COMBAT.

might fairly have been questioned. His claim was not less
ungenerous than unreasonable. His person was robust,
tall, and muscular; that of Bayard, though of good height,
was slender and delicate, displaying much less strength
than agility. Besides, he had been for some time suffering
from the quartan ague, the chills of which occurred on the
very day chosen for the combat. He was under their in-
fluence when the answer of Don Alonzo was brought to
him ; but neither his sufferings, nor the seeming inequalities
upon which his enemy insisted, could subdue his courage or
lessen his ardor for the fight. Bayard waived all his rights
rather than afford any pretext by which his enemy could
escape the issue. " In a good cause," he said, " I can do bat-
tle, whether I am challenger or defendant. Go to him, La
Lune, and say to him that this shall not stand in the way of
redressing my honor ; and, with God's favor, I will this day
fight him in whatever way he pleases."

This, in the feeble condition of our chevalier, was ac-
cepting fearful odds. To fight on foot with an ague upon
him seemed to his friends to be certainly fatal to his hopes.
He was already looked upon as a vanquished man. The
Spaniard, it was thought, had chosen this method of com-
bat, knowing equally the physical debility of our knight and
his superior excellence on horseback. Here, indeed, he
was not believed to have an equal in all Europe — certainly
it was not pretended that there was his superior. As he
alighted from his horse and entered the lists, his friends
could scarcely hide their anxieties. His feebleness was ap-
parent in his step and countenance ; but it is very wonder-
ful how, under the ardent impulse of a great soul, the fail-
ing flesh can be roused into power and strengthened for
endurance.

The readiness of Bayard to fight on any terms was in
no respect agreeable to our Spaniard, who, though brave in
the ordinary sense of the word, was certainly no fire-eater ;
and the prospect of an encounter a Tolerance with one so

THE FIELD. 99

highly renowned as his opponent, the skill and weight of
whose weapon he had already felt, might naturally oppress
him with doubts of the issue, whatever might be the advan-
tages upon his side. But there could be no longer any eva-
sion of the combat, and he put on a cheerful countenance.
He was attended by those in whose presence he did not
dare to seem afraid. His friends were Don Diego Qui-
noiies, the lieutenant of the "Great Captain;" Don Pe-
dro Valdez, the Marquis Licite, Don Francisco de Alta-
mese, and many other brave and noble gentlemen. The
escort of Bayard was similarly distinguished. He had
with him the Lord de la Palisse, who was lieutenant to the
Duke de Nemours as Diego de Quinones was to Gon-
salvo ; the lords d'Orose, Humbercourt, and Fontrailles,
the Baron of Beam, and others of like character. Bay-
ard was already in the field, having been placed, by
Bellabre, when Don Alonzo sent him the weapons from
which to choose. These were the long rapier and the
poniard. He was not long in choosing. The persons of
the knights were protected by steel cap and neck-piece.
When the Spaniard had entered the lists at their opposite
extremity, Bayard threw himself on his knees and breathed
a prayer to God ; then, stretching himself at his full length,
he reverently kissed the earth. We shall comment hereaf-
ter upon what seems to us a strange inconsistency in this act
of pious devotion, at the very moment one is about to vio-
late the laws of that Being before whom he kneels in hope
and supplication. This brief prostration over, the good
knight rose, and, making the sign of the cross, walked
straight toward his enemy, as confidently and calmly as if
he were within the limits of a court and about to dance
with ladies — the rapier grasped in his right and the pon-
iard in his left hand. Don Alonzo met him with a daunt-
less aspect, and bearing similar weapons in like manner.
" Seiior de Bayardo" said he, as our knight approached,
" quc me quieres ?" — " what would you have of me ?"

100 THE COMBAT.

Bayard replied in French, " Je quiers defendre mon
lionneur, dont faussement et mauvaisement irtas accuse /"
And thus began the conflict.

With the first thrust the rapier of Bayard grazed the
face of his opponent, but without mischief, and only pro-
voking the courage of the latter. Beautiful was the play
that succeeded. Never were two champions more equally
matched. The Spaniard put forth his best powers, and
they were deservedly held in high estimation. How brisk
were their assaults, how prompt the recovery, how ad-
mirable the defence. For a long time, though there were
many lunges, there were no hits. The efforts of Don
Alonzo were chiefly directed to stunning his adversary,
by striking him on the head — an aim in which, had he been
successful, he must have gained the victory, as, in the
debilitated condition of Bayard, such injuries must have
soon left him Jwrs de combat. But our knight supplied by
art and agility what he lacked in strength ; and, baffled in
his aim, Don Alonzo became excited, and his caution be-
came diminished in proportion as his choler was awakened.
A slight wound which Bayard gave him in the eye made
him furious, and, raising his arm to revenge himself for
the hurt, by a furious thrust, he gave an opportunity to his
opponent which the latter did not suffer to escape him.
Practising a ruse, for which the Spaniard was not pre-
pared, he raised his weapon at the same moment with the
other, but held it aloft, as if threatening the face of his
enemy, without doing any thing more. Then, as the
thrust of his adversary was put by, he sprang forward
with wondrous dexterity, while Don Alonzo stood un-
moved, and drove his dagger to the hilt, through the gor-
get, and into the neck of the latter. The steel penetrating
ibur inches, became fastened, so that Bayard failed to
draw it forth, and while the blood gushed forth upon him
in a turbid torrent, the fatally-stricken Spaniard, dropping
his rapier, grasped him involuntarily around the body, and

BAYARD SLAYS DE SOTOMAYER. 101

they both fell to the ground together. This circumstance
shows the feebleness of Bayard at the time of the combat.
It was the death-spasm of Don Alonzo, from whose em-
brace our chevalier extricated himself in a moment, and
rising to his feet, clapped his dagger to his nostrils, crying,
— " Yield, Don Alonzo, or you die." But the victim was
no longer sensible to such a threat. His second, Don
Diego de Quinones, interposed, saying, " Senor Bayardo,
ja es mue?-to, vencido aveis" — " He is already dead. You
have conquered !"

"Yet," said Bayard, with unaffected sorrow, — "I could
have wished it had fallen out otherwise. Senor, have I
done enough."

" Troppo, Senor Bayardo, por I'onor d'Espana" — " Too
much, Lord of Bayard, for the honor of Spain." Bayard
again knelt and returned thanks to God for the favor shown
him, again kissed the earth with reverence, and, having
risen, presented the body of the Spaniard to his friends,
for it was the prize, in those days, of the victor. The
behavior of Bayard on the field, won the applauses even
of his foes. All parties admitted that his enemy deserved
his fate, and that good knight never before administered
punishment so courteously and with a grace so exquisite.
To do our chevalier justice, he did not aim at the life of
the Spaniard. He had probably underrated the force of
his arm when he gave the fatal blow. The " Loyal Ser-
vant" assures us that he was right sorry that the thing was
done, and that he would rather have given an hundred
thousand crowns to have conquered his man alive. His
regrets offered no consolation to the Spanish gentlemen.
They had lost their sympathies for de Sotomayer, for he
was a dishonored man. But the pride of the nation was
outraged, and when does the Spaniard forget his pride 1
The event stung them into a desire for revenge, — the re-
Biilt of which we shall see hereafter. Meanwhile, Bayard
was conducted back to Monervino by his comrades in a

102 HIS GRATITUDE TO GOD.

sort of triumph, to the sound of hautboys and other instru-
ments. His first act after reaching his garrison was one
of devotion. Hurrying to the House of God, he again
rendered thanks for the favor which had been shown
him; and, this duty performed, he gave a magnificent
feast to his friends and comrades. Certainly, seen through
the medium of our more prosaic era, this institution of
chivalry was a thing of marvellous caprice and incon-
sistency.

CHAPTER X.

IT may be thought something strange, in Christian wri-
ters, to insist upon the piety of one professing Christianity,
who yet engages in single combat. We have seen Bayard
on his knees, making confession of sins, partaking of the
sacrament, and entreating the favor of the Deity, just before
entering upon more than one fatal duel. Were we super-
ficially to examine this conduct by the recognized moral
standards of our day, we should conclude that one who
should practise after this fashion was either a hypocrite or
a fool. But we must fall into no such error. In the time
of Bayard duels were frequent, and were under the sanc-
tion equally of the church and the laws. They received
these sanctions with the most ostentatious solemnities.
They were regarded in some sort as the only modes for
arriving at the truth in matters where human evidence was
wanting, and the divine justice was supposed to determine
in a case where the decision of man might most probably
result in injustice. Nor did pious men lack sufficient
examples in sacred history. They could refer to the great
duel between David and Goliath, to the terrible passage of
arms at Helkath-Hazzurun, of twelve against twelve, the
followers of David against those of Ish-bosheth, under the
challenge of Abner to Joab ; and many other cases. Be-
sides, to the Christian the arguments which lie against sin-
gle combat, lie also, with equal cogency against any mode
of human warfare — against that of nations quite as much
as that of individuals. Religion, which invited whole na-
tions to go forth in the Crusades, for the destruction of
other nations, under a divine pretext, could urge no objec-

104 THE LAWS OF THE DUELLO.

tions to the duel, unless as a mere matter of social and
domestic policy. It was inexpedient that our sons, whom
we need to war upon the heathen, should be suffered to
war upon each other. Civil regulations, accordingly, inter-
posed at an early day, under the dawning light of civiliza-
tion, in checking the frequency of single combat. In af-
fairs which grew out of the point of honor, the permission
of the king, during the time of Bayard, was absolutely
necessary to be obtained ; and this was rigorously with-
held where the occasion of the quarrel was one of a frivo-
lous nature, not affecting the good name arid honor of the
parties. When leave was granted by the monarch, he, or
one who was recognized as his representative, was required
to be present, having the right to arrest the combat at
whatever stage of it he thought proper, nor did either of the
parties dare to censure this interposition. It was in this
way that the monarchs sought to arrest and prevent the
abuses of a system which they yet recognized as necessary
to the institutions of war, and sometimes essential to the
higher purposes of justice. Bayard, in giving his counte-
nance to the practice of duelling,* not only acquiesced in
the ordinary usage of his times, but in one which found its
sanctions equally in the civil and religious authorities of
Christendom. We need not, therefore, defend his supposed
aberrations from piety in this particular, when we find his
lessons taught him by his spiritual father. But, in comply-
ing with a practice, the propriety of which he had never
been taught to question, we have no reason to suppose that
he would have ever dreamed of going out to the field on
frivolous or small provocation. Nor would he ever have
persisted in error, when his frank admission of his fault was
all that was necessary for atonement. We find him, for

* Bayard is frequently quoted, by those who argue against duelling, as
one who had steadily opposed the practice. We have shown that such is
not the case. They must look for their examples elsewhere, but need not
be at any loss, since the biographies of valiant men are full of them

THE SPANIARDS DISSATISFIED. 105

example, in this very duel with Sotomayer, just recited,
calling upon his companions to say whether he had Leen
guilty of misconduct in his treatment of his captive, declar-
ing his perfect readiness to confess his wrong, should they
advise him that he had been really erring. Regarding the
modes of fighting prior to the use of gunpowder, we must
perceive that every battle was but a series of personal
combats. Hence the wondrous difference in the loss of life
in modern battles in comparison with those of ancient
times, where each soldier took his foeman by the throat,
and where one or other must submit to captivity or to be
slain. Habits, engendered by such conflicts, must neces-
sarily have produced the duello. Every passion of the
heart was inflamed when each warrior grappled with an
individual enemy, and where the encounter was foot to
foot. The space which separates the opposing forces in
battles of modern times, while the cannon and the musket
do their work, tend greatly to lessen the bloody results of
every pitched battle ; and the duel seems to have gradual-
ly declined in popularity in proportion to the improvement
'of the implements for destructive warfare. Weapons which
render skill unavailing, and which tend to equalize the
chances of the combatants, contribute greatly to the objects
of the peace-maker.

The Spaniards, as we have said, were very far from
being satisfied that the French champion should triumph,
under circumstances so unfavorable, over one of their most
distinguished warriors ; and they strove," accordingly, in
some way to recover their renown and quiet their outraged
self-esteem ; but a truce which took place about this time
between the two armies, by preventing the possibility of a
general action, or of any affairs of small parties, seemed
unfavorable to the gratification of their wishes. This in-
terruption to the usual game of war left no safety-valves
for the surplus passion which the late combat had stimu-
lated into eagerness and warmth, and greatly increased

106 DIEGO DE BISAIGNE.

the restiveness of their champions under a discredit which
they improperly assumed to have disparaged the renown of
their whole nation. Having many distinguished combat-
ants among their men-at-arms, they availed themselves of
the armistice to pursue their sports, and spend their leisure
in and about the hamlets and towns which the French were
known to visit. On such occasions they tried various modes
of provocation, such as may be permitted to rivals, who,
eager for the adjustment of their claims, are yet compelled
to keep up certain conditions of forbearance and courtesy.
With the mood to quarrel, their disputes were frequent
with the French, though without realizing the results at
which they seemed to aim. The French were not quarrel-
some— were satisfied with themselves, their champions,
and with all the world ; and the Spaniards, for some days,
had to curb the impatience which they found no legitimate
mode at that time to pacify. It so happened, however,
that one of these little parties of adventure-seeking Span-
iards rode forth directly toward the town of Monervino,
where Bayard kept garrison. They were eleven or thir-
teen in number, and among them were some of the very
bravest and hardiest of the Spanish cavaliers. They had
got within half a league of Monervino, when they encoun-
tered our good knight riding forth in company with his
friend, the Lord d'Orose. Our cavaliers saluted the Span-
iards with courtesy, and the two parties instantly fell into
conversation. By gradual transitions, the restless Span-
iards soon began to exhibit the feeling of impatience and
discontent under which they suffered. At length a bold fel-
low, one Diego de Bisaigne, an officer in the company of the
late Don Alonzo de Sotomayer, and the last person either
to forget or to forgive his death, introduced the subject of
his wishes in the following manner :

" I know not, gentlemen of France, whether this truce,
now a week old, pleases you or no ; but to us it is terribly
annoying, and we should like to relieve its tedium in any

TERMS OF COMBAT. 107

pleasant manner. Now if, while it lasts, a band of you,
ten or twenty, more or less, are willing to fight upon our
sovereign's quarrel, I will undertake that you shall not
want a like number to engage you on our side ; the beaten
party to remain prisoners of the other."

Bayard was one of the very last persons in the world to
suggest any obstacles to so pleasant an arrangement.

" The gentleman speaks very discreetly," said the Lord
d'Orose ; and Bayard concurred with him in the compli-
ment.

"Be it as you wish," he replied promptly to the Span-
ish knight who had addressed him. "My companion and
myself understand you, and agree with you perfectly.
You are here some thirteen cavaliers. We will meet you
eight days hence with an equal number, armed and mount-
ed, and he then who hath a brave heart let him show it."

The Spaniards agreed to the arrangement, and the par-
ties separated for the time, after having made all their
arrangements for the place and circumstances of the com-
bat.

The combatants assembled at the appointed time and
place according to agreement. Crowds, of all nations,
came also as spectators. The ground was carefully meas-
ured off, and bounded. It was stipulated that he who
passed beyond the boundaries was to remain a prisoner,
and not engage in the fight again that day. It was also
arranged that he who should be unhorsed in the combat
was to continue it no longer. This was an unhappy error
on the part of the French, as we shall see hereafter. The
fight was to continue till nightfall, and no longer; and
neither party was to be held the conqueror as long as one
of its champions could maintain himself in his saddle. In
such case, he was to leave the field in equal honor at least
with his antagonists, carrying1 off his comrades without

*/ O

ransom. It was fortunate for the French that this was a
feature in the stipulations. Bayard was the first to make

108 BAYARD IN THE LISTS.

his appearance in the field. "We take a description of his
entree on this occasion from the pen of one of the Italian
novelists of modem times. It answers to the truth of his-
tory, so far as it is known ; though our author, who is very
partial to his own countrymen, as a matter of course, and
who, in the description of this combat, confounds two very
distinct and dissimilar events, is by no means an authority,
except as to matters of description and the social costume
of the times.

" Bayard, the warrior and glory of knighthood, was the
first to enter the lists. He rode a beautiful bay of Nor-
mandy, with a mane of sable, and three silver-spotted feet.
According to the customs of chivalry, the fine proportions
of this charger were concealed by an ample saddle-cloth,
which completely covered his body. This was of a bright
green, striped with crimson, and terminating in a rich fringe,
which descended to his knees. The arms of the knight
were embroidered on this garment, where it covered the
broad shoulder and flank of the charger. There was
nothing remarkable in the personal appearance of Bayard
himself; and, without venturing to judge of what the armor
might conceal, he did not seem to promise the ordinary
degree of vigor of the warriors of the time. His steed,
curbed as he rode within the lists, and nettled by the spur
at the same moment, bore impatiently upon the rein, pran-
cing forward with arching neck, and proudly curvetting from
side to side under the restraint, while his flowing tail swept

the ground about his course Bayard, who till this

moment had kept his visor closed, now exhibited a face so
very pale, that all the spectators were surprised to see him
take the field. When it was shut by his esquire, he said
that, though a sufferer for four months from ague, he
believed that he should that day bring no dishonor upon the
arms of France."* The rest of our author's description is

* The challenge of Barletta, by Massimo d'Azeglio, an Italian imitator
of the school of Scott. For a translation of this interesting novel, by Mr.

BASENESS OF THE SPANIARDS. 109

purely fanciful. The scene which he describes never took
place ; but we must not forget the rights of the novelist ;
and, in stating the fact, and denying his, we do not propose
to censure him, or dispute his privileges.

To return to our combatants. The preliminaries being
all completed, and the parties ranged in opposition, the
signal was given for the combat. The lances were couched ;
the spurs given to the chai'gers ; and the knights rushed
into the thick melee with wonderful courage and impetu-
osity. But it was soon found that the clause in the terms
of the combat which rendered the knight hors de combat
who happened to be unhorsed, had led to the practice of an
unexpected baseness on the part of the Spaniards, who
now addressed themselves to the dishonorable toil of slay-
mg horses, rather than men. It was not a combat man to
man, but man against beast — and this seemingly by a plan
previously concerted among themselves, for they were all
governed by a like desire. Eleven of the horses of the
French were killed; and their riders — without suffering
hurt — without incurring the slightest discredit for want of
skill, either in arms or horsemanship — were thus, at an
early period in the day, excluded from farther participation
in the strife. Bayard and the Lord d'Orose alone main-
tained their saddles ; and so skilfully and gallantly did they
maintain them, that the treacherous Spaniards took nothing
by their baseness. It was in vain that they concentrated
their whole efforts, and made combined assaults upon these
two champions. These, retiring behind the slain horses
whenever assailed by the whole force of the enemy, found
in them an excellent bulwark, from which they darted,
whenever occasion offered, upon single foes, and succeeded
in keeping the field, in defiance of the numbers against
them: and thus the day was consumed until the shades of
nisfht closed the combat. Individuals could do them no

^j

Lester, see the " Medici Series of Italian Prose," from the American press
of Paine & Burgess.

K

110 ANOTHER PASSAGE.

hurt ; and, when charged by too great numbers, they shelter-
ed themselves behind the horses of their comrades, and no ap-
plication of the spur, on the part of the Spaniards, could per-
suade their less gallant steeds to take the leap also. The
honor of the day was accorded to the French ; since, with
but two knights against thirteen, they could not be over-
come in a conflict which lasted four hours. The parties
separated with the night, the Spaniards leaving the field
with increased admiration of the exquisite prowess of our
knight, and his wonderful skill and spirit.

This event was followed by others of a similar kind, with
one of which it has more than once been confounded.*
This was an affair which occasioned considerable excite-
ment, and was productive of much exultation on the side
of the Spaniards, and their allies, the Italians. It appears
that, pending some negotiations between the two armies,
a French officer, Charles de Torgues, visited the town of
Barletta to effect an exchange of prisoners. Here, at a
convivial meeting, a dispute arose respecting the compara-
tive merits of the French and Italian knights. In the course
of the discussion, de Torgues was incautious enough to say
that the Italians were an effeminate and timid people, and
no match for the chivalry of France. This roused some
of the company, one of whom replied that he had under
his own command a troop of Italians who were fully equal
to the same number of Frenchmen. The dispute ended in a
challenge, thirteen against thirteen, the victors being enti-
tled to the arms and horses of the vanquished, and one hun-
dred gold crowns each. The fight took place on the 13th
February, 1503, in a plain between the towns of Andri and

* As in the instance of the romance by Massimo d'Azeglio, already quoted,
historians have also fallen into the same error. It is one easily made, since
the events happened about the same time, and the combatants, of like num-
ber on each side, were drawn from the same opposing nations. Some dis-
pute has arisen with regard to the number of champions in the previous
combat, but the difference between eleven and thirteen of a side is nowise
important.

A NEW ADVENTURE. Ill

*

Corrato. The Frenchmen were defeated, and the triumph
of the Italians and Spaniards was duly increased by the ex-
ceeding novelty of their good fortune in the tourney, for
the " Great Captain" thought that the French cavalry were
the best soldiers in the world. But Bayard was not pres-
ent on this occasion, neither as a combatant, as some of the
accounts report, nor as one of the judges of the field, as as-
serted by other authorities. The author of the challenge
of B arietta lugs him in by the head and shoulders, in his nar-
rative, simply that the honor gained by his countrymen on
this occasion should derive additional lustre from classing
among the beaten party the mirror of modern chivalry. A
like error prevails in the account of the affair by the Spanish
biographer, Quintana, who has strangely wrought up in
one narrative the several details of the two combats. We
are, fortunately, in possession of the names of the several
knights, on both sides, who were engaged in this last pass-
age. That of Bayard is not among them. He was not
present at the fight. He was probably still a victim to the
ague under which he had suffered more or less severely for
several months. The termination of the truce found him
better, or, at all events, willing to think himself so, since we
find him engaged in a little expedition requiring some ac-
tivity, and in which he gave an admirable illustration of
one of his most noble virtues.

It appears one day that our good knight received a hint
irom his spies, that there was a certain treasurer of Naples
who was upon the road for B arietta with money-bags of
ample size, which he was conveying for the use of Gon-
salvo de Cordova. The pleasant, not to say humane and
charitable idea, suggested itself to our knight that he would
relieve his enemy of this burden ; and the " Loyal Servant"
tells us that from this moment he never laid himself down
to sleep without setting a strict watch upon the route which
the treasurer was compelled to pursue. He soon received
tidings which were decisive of his approach. But a day

112 RELIEVES THE TREASURER.

was left for the operation as he was now but fifteen miles
from Monervino, and attended by a small body of cavalry.
Bayard had somehow set his heart upon this charitable per-
formance. He had another reason, scarcely less potent
than that of relieving the treasurer of his cares, the desire
of rewarding the good service of his soldiers. The motives
were each sufficiently noble to keep him sleepless. With-
out waiting for his breakfast, he rose before day, and,
putting himself in ambush between two snug and pleasant
little hills, he despatched his companion Tardieu, with five-
and-twenty soldiers more, upon another route, so that if
the good treasurer should be so unfortunate as not to find
the desired relief at his hands, he might afford an oppor-
tunity to his lieutenant to do him th© needful service. Tar-
dieu obeyed orders, watched patiently and well, but took
no prey. Bayard was more fortunate. Crouched in a
naiTow gorge which enabled him thoroughly to hide his
men, he suffered the treasurer to pass him by without in-
terruption. When they had fairly got beyond him, how-
ever, and retreat was impossible, our good knight darted
out of cover with his war-cry — " France ! France ! kill !
kill!"

Surprised by the suddenness of the assault, disordered
by the charge, and supposing that ten times its number
was upon them, the Spanish escort offered but a feeble
defence, and fled toward Barletta. Bayard did not pursue
the fugitives very far. His great anxiety was the relief of
the poor man who bore the money. Him he approached
with affectionate interest, and took him, and his man, and
his bags, all at once, under his special protection. These
he conducted in safety to Monervino. The treasurer and
the money-bags were both conducted to our knight's apart-
ments, where the gold was tumbled forth upon a table,
making a pile which delighted the eyes of our French-
men.

An attempt being made to count the spoils, the treasurer

TARDIEtl's VEXATION. 113

prevented it, by saying that they might save themselves
the trouble, the amount being just fifteen thousand ducats.
Fifteen thousand ducats was no trifling sum in that day,
and in the sight of a greedy and expensive young soldiery.
While it lay ostentatiously heaped upon the table, Tardieu
made his appearance, his eyes gloating over the treasure
spread before him, and his mind vexed and irritated at
the ill fortune which had kept him from the prize. How-
ever, putting on his most amiable visage, he said to our
knight —

" Comrade, I go shares with you. I was of the under-
taking, you know ]"

" Very true," rejoined Bayard, with a pleasant smile,
"but you were not of the taking, comrade !"

Something more was said, and the good knight, in order
to subdue the tone of the lieutenant, reminded him coolly
that he was under his command, not his equal, and could claim
nothing that he, Bayard, was not willing to give. An angry
man was Tardieu that day, and he swore a bitter oath that
lie would have justice. He made his complaint accordingly
to the Duke de Nemours, who, on inquiring of Bayard the
particulars, and taking the opinions of his officers as to the
usage in such cases, confirmed our hero in his right to all
the money. Tardieu got neither sympathy nor satisfaction.
Tardieu, we must not forget, was the same person who led
the escort which welcomed Bayard at his first going into
garrison at the town of Aire, and who had prompted the
tournament which the latter had given at that place. He
was a lively and pleasant fellow, though he could be angry,
and swore famously when the fit was on him, like any other
trooper. When he heard the decision of the Duke de Ne-
mours, he cried out —

" By the blood of St. George, I am vastly unlucky.
Nevertheless, comrade," addressing the good knight, " it is
pretty much the same thing. You will have to maintain
me so long as we tarry in this land."

K*

114 BAYARD'S LIBERALITY.

Bayard laughed. The proceeding caused no ill-blood
between them ; and they returned in company to Moner-
vino, from their visit to the duke. When they had reached
our knight's lodgings, he caused his ducats to be displayed
once more before the yearning eyes of Tardieu.

" Comrade," said he to the disappointed man, as his fin-
gers played among the heap, " these are very pretty play-
things."

" What's that to me ?" answered the other. " I have no
part in them. Had I but the half of them, I were a made
man all my life !"

" You shall have them, comrade !" was the response of
the generous knight. " What you could not wrest from me
by force, I give you with all my heart."

The act followed the words. Seven thousand five hun-
dred ducats were instantly counted out in the presence of
the incredulous man, and put in his possession. He could
scarcely believe his eyes, and thought the whole proceed-
ing a jest, until perfectly convinced by the assurances of his
superior. Tardieu was overcome. His heart smote him
for what he had done ; and, sinking upon his knees, with
tears in his eyes, acknowledged the bounty and noble
generosity which he felt ashamed ever to have questioned.
When he spoke of the benefit, Bayard relieved him.
"Hold your peace, Tardieu, this is nothing to what I
would do for you were it in my power." But Tardieu
found it adequate to his wants. It was indeed the making
of his fortune ; for when, at the conclusion of the war, he
returned to France, it enabled him to marry a noble lady,
who had three thousand crowns a year.

The lavish bounty of the good knight, " whose heart,"
according to the " Loyal Servant," was " pure as a pearl,"
did not stop when it had made one man happy. Calling
together all his troops, he shared with them the remaining
moiety of his prize, without reserving a single ducat for
himself. He even suffered the treasurer to depart without

HIS FORBEARANCE. 115

ransom, and without subjecting his person to a search — a
forbearance greatly to the joy of the latter, who still car-
ried with him, in rings and money, the value of five hun-
dred ducats more. But I^ayard was moderate in his de-
sires, and was quite satisfied with having contributed, even
partially, to lessening the poor man's burthen.

CHAPTER XI

THE several tourneys between the French, Spanish and
Italian cavaliers, had raised the courage of the two latter
immeasurably. According to the Spanish proverb, " The
French had many fine horses, but few "Bayards" That
the Italians should be able to maintain their ground at all
against the cavalry of France was matter of great exulta-
tion among a people to whom the neighboring nations of
the continent were disposed to deny the ordinary quality
of courage. The training which they were daily receiving
from the " Great Captain," with the examples afforded
them of stubborn endurance and fierce enthusiam by the
Spanish champions, were altogether different from those
lessons for which they had been hitherto indebted to their
mercenaries. These, under the command of a Condottieri,
who had no interest in the conflicts in which they engaged,
other than flowed from the certainty of pay, seldom perilled
themselves or their people, where danger might by any pos-
sibility be avoided. Under different leaders the morale
of Italian knighthood underwent large improvement. The
nation was inspirited by their displays of an unexpected
skill and audacity ; their poets found inspiration in their
deeds, and the popular feeling was roused to a high de-
gree of enthusiasm. All this was unfavorable to the prog-
ress of the arms of Louis, whose troops do not seem to
have been well commanded. The Duke de Nemours was
not the general to oppose to Gonsalvo, and the latter was
supplied with new troops from Spain, while the former
was left to maintain himself without adequate succours.
The allies of Louis were of a sort to discredit and to be-

SUCCESSES OF THE SPANIARDS. 117

tray any alliance. These were the Borgias, father and
son, who, having won over the Cardinal d'Amboise, the
French minister, succeeded in poisoning and misleading
the counsels of the monarch. Under these evil influences,
the foreign policy of Louis became diverse and incon-
sistent ; and the King of Spain, whose whole nature was
alive to artifice, had recourse to his favorite weapon still
more to enfeeble the action of his enemy. He held out to
Louis, through his son-in-law, the Archduke Philip, then
travelling through France, the promise of a new and favor-
able treaty, by which Naples was to be brought as the
dowry of the Princess Claude, in an alliance with young
Charles, the grandson of Charles and Maximilian. Louis
was duped by this negotiation, and entertaining these
suggestions, relaxed in his exertions for strengthening his
arms in Italy. He was awakened from this delusion when
it was too late to repair the evil. Ferdinand had em-
ployed the time, thus lost by the French monarch, in
sending the most ample succors to Gonsalvo ; and the
successes of the Spanish general were the first events by
which Louis was taught to see the faithless policy of his
rival. Hitherto, Gonsalvo had been content to maintain
his ground at B arietta, environed by the French army,
which, having possessed itself of the surrounding towns
and villages, had sought to enclose him in an impassable
circle. He was now to assume the offensive. Suddenly
falling upon the town and fortress of Ruvo, which was
defended by the Lord de la Palisse, he carried the place
by storm. Castellaneta, another town which the Span-
iards had taken, was besieged about this time by the
French. Hearing of the siege of Ruvo, the Duke de
Nemours raised that of Castellaneta, in order to relieve
the former, and by this proceeding lost both. These un-
toward events were followed by the defeat of D'Aubigny
in Calabria, and by a disaster still more severe in the
bloody battle of Cerignola, which resulted from the aban-

118 DEFEAT AT CERIGNOLA.

donment, by Gonsalvo, of his long-held post at Barletta.
Finding himself in sufficient strength to emerge from this
position, he announced his intention to the Duke of
Nemours, by way of chivalric defiance ; and, calling in
all his unnecessary outposts, he sallied forth in force
to meet his enemy. Having reached Cerignola, where
the French possessed large store of munitions and pro-
visions, he was soon apprised that the army of Nemours
was in close pursuit. Had the latter been able to have
overtaken Gronsalvo in the plain, and before he could have
attained the heights of Cerignola, the defeat of the latter
would have been certain. But he attained the eminence
in safety, and, throwing up a small fortification among
the numerous vineyards upon the slope of the hill, and
strewing the ground before it with stakes and broken iron
for the embarrassment of the French cavalry, he waited
their approach, still very dubious of the event, and in a
state of temporary despondency from which nothing but
the actual approach of combat seemed to awaken him.
It was twilight when the forces of Nemours drew nigh,
his troops necessarily fatigued by a long and arduous
march. His prudence counselled a halt for the night, but
his destiny, in the shape of an insidious associate, in-
sinuated that such a delay would carry with it every
attribute of cowardice. Stung by the suggestion, the
French commander followed the guidance of his evil
genius. He placed himself at the head of the men-at-
arms forming his vanguard, and gave the signal for the
action. His advance drew upon him a terrible fire from
the musketry and artillery of the Spaniards, to escape
from which he charged at full gallop up the heights. At
first the French were successful, but their advantages
were temporary ; and their leader, the Duke de Nemours,
struck by a musket-shot, falling dead from his horse, was
the signal for a general panic, which terminated in flight.
The fight was well maintained while it lasted, but it was

MISFORTUNES OF THE FRENCH. 119

•

one of a kind in which there could be no displays of in-
dividual valor. It was a mclec, — a wild and bloody one,
— hardily fought under very unequal conditions, in which
no audacity of knighthood could avail much against a foe
stubbornly planted and in a position of considerable
strength and security. The body of the French general
was found among the slain. The debris of the army was
collected at Gaeta, a place of considerable strength.

The city of Naples, after this event, was surrendered to
Gonsalvo. Its castle was taken by mining — a mode of
offence, we may here remark, which was first employed
during these wars in Italy. In a little time the fortress of
Gaeta was the only strong post in the kingdom that was
held by the French.

Louis was exceedingly mortified by these defeats, and
put in force all his energies to repair and redress them.
Despatching a powerful army through the Papal states into
the kingdom of Naples, under the Duke de la Tremouille,
he determined also to assail his enemy in his Spanish do-
minions. Large bodies of troops entered the provinces of
Roussillon. and Fontarabia, while the French fleets infested
the coasts of Valencia and Catalonia. But all these prepa-
rations ended in disappointment. La Tremouille fell ill, and
Gonzaga, the marquis of Mantua, who succeeded him in the
command, as wanting, probably, in zeal as in talent, succeed-
ed in achieving nothing. The Pope, the ally of Louis, was
about this time taken in his own snare, being poisoned by
wines which he is supposed to have medicated for certain
of his guests. His son, Caesar Borgia, escaped the same fate
only by means of antidotes promptly administered and the
strength of a vigorous constitution. These events had their
influence upon the armies of France by involving them in
the intrigues for the papal succession. With his eye fixed
upon the chair of St. Peter, the minister of Louis, Cardinal
d'Amboise, had the art to persuade his master to direct the
troops intended for Naples to the vicinity of Rome, their

120 THEIR STRONG-HOLD OF GAETA.

•

presence being thought likely to give him potency in the
conclave which was to assemble for the election of the new
Pope. They were kept in this subordinate position, the
jest of the Italians, without effecting any thing toward the
desired object, and at the expense of all the designs which
had been entertained against Naples. The season became
too far advanced for active operations; and severe marches
in winter, with a heavy artillery, over roads which the
heavy rains had converted into quagmires, told fearfully
upon the morale of the French army. Several attempts
which they made upon fortified towns on the confines of
Naples were either repulsed or only partially successful ;
and, with a junction of all his forces, and the aid of new
levies, Gonsalvo was prepared to throw himself across their
path, whether this contemplated invasion or retreat.

The whole efforts of the French seemed now to be ad-
dressed rather to a retarding of the progress of the Span-
iards than to the acquisition of new conquests. The re-
mains of the old army, after the defeat of Cerignola, were
collected by the Duke d'Alegre at Gaeta. Here Gonsalvo
sat himself down with his forces, but without being able to
make any impression upon the garrison. The approach of
the newly-recruited levies of the French caused the aban-
donment of the siege, and he retired, to wait events, upon
Castellone. Gaeta was relieved by the Duke de la Tre-
mouille, who, being now joined by the Marquis of Mantua,
possessed himself of the duchy of Trajetto and the district
of Fondi, as far as the river Garigliano.

From this territory it was now the object of Gonsalvo to
dispossess him; and the attempt to do so brings us to one
of those interesting passages in the life of Bayard which
contribute to form the peculiar renown upon which his
reputation rests. Hitherto, from the period of the severe
battle of Cerignola, we have been permitted to see nothing
of him as an individual. He simply ranked with the brave
but unfortunate chivalry, who, led by feeble generals, were

THE OPPOSING ARMIES. 121

required to atone by their valor, and consecrate, by their
blood, the folly and crimes of their superiors. Of his own
hairbreadth 'scapes and brave exploits during all this in-
terval we have no record ; and the degree of credit which
he could hope to assert, as one of a baffled army, must neces-
sarily be small. Indeed, it is in contrast with the deeds of
the army, at this period, that his own acquire reputation.
" The campaign," says an impartial historian, "served but
to display the valor of the brave Bayard, who alone de-
fended the passage of a bridge against a body of Spaniards
for a considerable time."* This achievement acquired for
him the surname of the French Cocles.t The facts were
these : — The troops of the French were posted somewhat
disadvantao-eously on the marshy banks of the Garigliano,
over which they had succeeded in throwing a bridge, which
would facilitate their march upon Naples. This having
passed, it was calculated that the whole intermediate tract
of country between them and the capital would lie open to
the invaders, with no greater obstacles in their way than the
presence of Gonsalvo. This, itself, was something of an
obstacle. He, with the Spanish forces, lay in waiting, the
river only separating the opposing armies. His troops
were in high spirits from recent and continued successes.
The French, from the same cause, were doubtful and dis-
pirited. Besides, they lacked confidence in their leader,
the Marquis of Mantua, who was a foreigner of small tal-
ents and no enterprise. Gonsalvo was not unwilling to
give his enemy battle. There were two ways of crossing
the river : by the bridge which the French had raised, and
of which they were in possession, and by a ford at some
distance from it, which they also guarded. It was deter-
mined that a feint should be made at the ford, while a

* Crowe's History of France, vol. i., p. 145.

t See Livy, for the achievement of Publins Horatins Codes, who defend-
ed a bridge against the whole army of Porsenna. See, also, Macauley's
fine poem :imong his admirably-conceived ballads of ancient Rome.

L

122 DON PEDRO PAZ.

strong body of men should attempt the bridge. The

ao-e of the ford was entrusted to one Pedro Paz. Th,i3

o

was, in several respects, a very remarkable person. Though
one of the most fearless and sagacious warriors, he was yet
scarcely more than half the height of an ordinary man ; a
hunchback to whom Richard Crookback was a model
of manly beauty ; of whom, when he was mounted on horse-
back, you could see little above the saddle than an enor-
mous head and pair of shoulders. But never did character
more completely give the lie to outward seeming. Don
Pedro could use his lance and steed with any of his com-
rades ; and, admitted to counsel, it was acknowledged that
none surpassed him in the exhibition of a judgment at once
bold and circumspect, adventurous and sage. This doughty
warrior, the preparations of the cooperating parties being
all completed, proceeded somewhat ostentatiously to effect
the passage of the river by the well-known ford. He had
under him a couple of hundred horsemen, each of whom
carried a foot-soldier behind him. The ruse was so far
successful as to draw upon Senor Pedro the attention of the
whole French army. At the first alarm — on the first wild
intimation that the van of the whole Spanish army was
about to cross the river at the ford — the French, turning out
simultaneously, hurried to prevent the passage. They
probably succeeded in doing so, for we learn that, satisfied
that no farther danger was to be apprehended from this
quarter, they retired to their tents, fully believing that they
would be vexed with no more alarms that day. Bayard
alone seems to have been wary and suspicious. He must
have known and felt, quite as painfully as any other person,
the inferior abilities of the generals by whom the French
troops were sacrificed rather than commanded. At all
events, it happened, fortunately for his own fame and for
the army, that he was well armed, mounted, and near the
bridge, when the more serious attempt was to be made in
that quarter by the Spaniards. He had with him but a

BAYARD DEFENDS THE BRIDGE ALONE. 123

sir-tie companion, one Pierre de Tardes, surnamed Lc
Basque, an equerry to the King of France ; and not a single
follower. These two, hearing the tread of horse, looked
forth to the Spanish side of the river, and discovered about
two hundred horse making directly for the bridge. The
danger was imminent, for the loss of the bridge, at that
moment, involved the safety of the whole army. To sound
the alarm and fly would have been the probable course,
under such circumstances, with nine hundred and ninety-
nine men in the thousand. To dream of arresting the
torrent by the single will and resistance of one man would
scarcely be thought of by one person in the million. Yet
such was the instinct of our chevalier. It does not seem to
have been a matter of reflection with him. It was a thing
of course that he should keep the post at all hazards.

" Speed you, my friend," he said to the equerry, " and
gather some of our men to maintain the bridge, or we are
all ruined. I will endeavor to keep the enemy in play
till you return ; but hasten, for there is no time to be lost."

The equerry disappeared on the instant ; and Bayard,
crossing the bridge, upon the extremity of which the Span-
iards were about to pass, chose his position with some re-
gard to the difficulty which he should probably have in
maintaining it. Putting his lance in rest, he charged the
head of the advancing column at the very threshold, tum-
bling two of them headlong into the river, from whence they
never emerged, and two more upon the banks, at the very
first thrust of his weapon. This brought upon him a host ;
but their very numbers, impeding their progress in the nar-
row gorge which he defended, contributed somewhat to his
security. Never were charges more desperate or more
successful than those which he made that day. Great was
the surprise of the Spaniards to behold one man thus
furiously darting upon their squadrons. At first they re-
garded him as one delivered up and devoted to destruction ;
but not so when they sunk beneath his assault, and were

124 HIS PROWESS.

hurled, by his adroit exercise of horse and lance, by
threes and fours, headlong into the stream. Astounded,
almost appalled at first, they recoiled from before him; but
soon recovering, they gave him enough to do. With his
back to the railing of the bridge, so that they might not
assail him from behind, he confounded them by the rapidity,
the dexterity and the force of his movements. As many
as might do so assailed him at the same moment. These
he was not only to encounter and resist as well as he was
able, but he was to do this and keep his position at the
same time, so that none of them might contrive to get be-
tween him and the bridge. This was no easy performance.
But Bayard was not only a brave and skilful warrior —
skilful beyond his time — but he was one of those wondrous
horsemen whose power of managing the steed is a mys-
tery— such as the Arab of the desert possesses, but such as
ordinary riders cannot understand. With an eye that
seemed to look out from every part of his body at the same
time, and a hand and weapon that seconded admirably
every movement of his eye, he beheld, and foiled his as-
sailants, crowding in on every side. The powerful, but
docile and well-trained animal that bore his weight, seemed
imbued with his own spirit ; and the two wrought together
so admirably and so successfully, that the Spaniards were
persuaded of a miracle — such as they themselves so fre-
quently beheld wrought in their own behalf on the field of
battle, when their patron saint took up the cudgels of war,
and came to their rescue at the lucky moment. They could
make no impression on our chevalier — could advance no
footstep ; and, looking upon him as a fiend, rather than a
mortal, were compelled to admire the skill and courage
which promised still to baffle their best attempts. How
long a conflict so unequal might have been maintained, it is
not easy to conjecture. Reason assures us that it must
terminate at last in the exhaustion and overthrow of the
single champion, however gloriously endowed with ability

DEFEATS AND PURSUES THE SPANIARDS. 125

and strength. In sheer desperation and shame the baffled
host would press upon him, and bear him forward as a leaf
borne by the storm, by the very impulse of their headlong
weight and momentum. But he was relieved before it was
too late. Smiting fiercely with his sword (his lance hav-
ing long since been shivered), he heard the approach-
ing gallop of his gallant comrades. The war-cry of his
faithful gens dlarms rose behind him, and crowned his de-
fence with triumph. As they came thundering down across
the bridge, he assumed the offensive ; the Spaniards yielded
before him; and, leading his companions, the exulting
chevalier pressed fiercely upon them in pursuit.

This was an error. The party that came to the relief
of Bayard, and which Pierre de Tardes had hastily col-
lected in the emergency, consisted of only a hundred men.
They were soon encountered by a large body of the Span-
ish horse, seven or eight hundred in number, hurrying for-
ward to support their comrades, or to make secure the post
which it was supposed they had acquired. It was at sight
of these that Bayard arrested the pursuit. "We have
done enough," said he, " my comrades, in having saved the
bridge. Let us now retire, keeping as close together as
we can." But they were not permitted to retire so quietly.
The retreat was begun in an orderly manner, but soon
became a flight. Bayard, who usually led into action, in a
retreat always brought up the rear. Such was his position
now. But, in taking it, he had not allowed for the hard
service which his horse had already endured that day. The
faithful animal soon showed signs of distress and exhaustion,
and the knight soon found it impossible to keep up with
his comrades. As the Spaniards pressed more closely upon
them, they began to scatter, and a concentrated rush of
their battalions tumbled several of the Frenchmen from
their saddles, and drove the survivors out of sight — all but
Bayard. His steed was the first to falter. He had wheeled
about to do battle as the enemy drew nigh, and was forced

i.*

126 BAYARD A CAPTIVE.

backward in the shock, his horse sinking up to his haunches
in a ditch. Surrounded by twenty or thirty assailants,
fettered as it were by the situation of the animal, our hero
continued to bear about him bravely, giving hard blows,
and never thinking of surrender. "Rende, Rende, Senor /"
was the cry of the Spaniards. " I fear I can not choose but
surrender," was the answer of Bayard, " since alone I can
not well withstand you all !"

They deprived him of the battle-axe with which he had
been fighting, leaving him in possession of his sword. Had
they conjectured the name and quality of their prisoner,
they would not have been guilty of this error. But he had
kept his secret. His face concealed by his visor — his per-
son in armor — they only knew that they had captured a
very powerful and valiant knight, but had no idea that he
was the man of all others whom they most desired to make
captive. Bayard knew the danger to himself, to his life,
probably, by letting his name be known. He had long
been the terror of their cavalry, and had no reason to think
that his life would be spared should he fall into their hands
in the heat of battle. When questioned of himself, accor-
dingly, he gave them another name for his own. They nev-
er thought to exact from him his parole d'honneur. Secure
of their prize, and confident in their numbers, they scorned
to betray any doubts that they could keep him safe among
them, and rode slowly away with their captive on their
return to camp. The party having him in charge brought
up the rear of their battalion, the greater body having
withdrawn from the ground after the dispersion of the
French, and when they learned that the force which had
been sent for the purpose had failed in securing the bridge.

But our good knight was not abandoned by his comrades.
When they reassembled at the bridge, and found that he
was not among them, the alarm was given instantly. The
first to speak was the Chevalier Guiffray, a gentleman of
Dauphiny, and near neighbor of Bayard. " Ah ! gentle-

HE IS RESCUED. 127

men, said he " we have lost every thing, since the good
Captain Bayard is not with us. He is either slain or tak-
en. And shall we, whom he hath so well conducted, and
for whom he hath won so much honor this very day, shall
we not see what has become of him] I vow to God that
I will have tidings of him, at all hazards, though I return
alone to seek them !"

The resolve of the knight Guiffray was that of all. All
were equally afflicted and equally resolute. " We will all
return !" was the cry, and each man alighted to tighten the
girths of his horse. They were soon remounted and speed-
ing away " at a great gallop after the Spaniards who were
carrying away the flower and perfection of all gentility."
They were successful in overhauling the retiring enemy
before they had regained the camp. Their first cry, as
they rushed upon them, informed them of that w7hich the
wary Bayard had kept secret. " Turn ye, Spaniards, turn ;
and think not thus to carry off with ye the flower of all
knighthood !" The Spaniards did face about, and, being
still numerous, received the shock of the assault with
spirit and firmness. But in this shock several of them were
dismounted. In the moment of the rush and struggle which
followed, Bayard freed himself from his guard and threw
himself from his jaded steed upon the ground. At that for-
tunate moment, the equerry, Le Basque, succeeded in tum-
bling out of his saddle a brave Spaniard, named Salvador
de Borgia. This man had been well mounted. To seize
upon the bridle of the freed horse — to leap into the seat
without touching the stirrup — to draw his sword and lay
about him among the enemy, was, for our chevalier, the
work of a single moment and impulse. His well-known
battle-cry, " France ! — Bayard !" — " Bayard, who was late
your prisoner!" struck terror into the Spaniards, and suffi-
ciently taught them who had been their captive. They lost
heart as the French gained it, by this discovery. The loss of
such a prisoner was, indeed, the loss of hope and victory.

128 VIRES AGMINIS UNUS HABET.

" Let us away to camp," was the cry among them, " we
shall do nothing great to-day !" This cry struck a panic
through their ranks. They fled shamefully from a contest
in which their numbers and previous successes should have
ensured them a complete victory. The approach of night
found the French safe in camp, too happy in having helped
to extricate their guidon d'honneur from the hands of the
enemy. Here, for a week, nothing was spoken of but the
prowess of our chevalier. It was at this period, and in
relation to his defence at the bridge, that he received for his
device a porcupine, with the appropriate motto, " Vires
agminis unus 7iabet" — " One alone is equal to an army."

CHAPTER XII.

BUT the bridge thus valiantly defended by a single man
was not to be maintained even by an army. The gallantry
of the few availed little against an enemy when he was
succored by the incompetence of their own captains. The
French chivalry were indignant at the fortune which assigned
them to the command, not only of a foreigner, but one so to-
tally devoid of enterprise and skill ; who kept them station-
ary when courage and shame equally demanded their ad-
vance, and who opposed even their occasional successes by
the paralysing influence of his own evil fortune. They did
not conceal their indignation and contempt, and the expres-
sion of their disgust and scorn became so open and humili-
ating at last, that the incompetent general withdrew from the
command, which he had shown so little capacity to fill. He
carried with him a large body of Italian troops whom he
had brought into the field, and this defection tended still more

130 BATTLE OF GARIGLIANO.

to lessen the hopes of th© French, whom continued ill suc-
cesses had done so much to depress and dispirit. Gon-
zaga was succeeded by the Marquis of Saluces, but his
generalship was not more fortunate than that of his prede-
cessor. It required something more than an ordinary sol-
dier and man of spirit to oppose Gonsalvo, acknowledged
as the greatest captain of his time ; and the declining
morale of the French troops demanded a stimulus to exer-
tion of a kind equally novel and imposing.

Foiled in the attempt to carry the bridge, of which the
French had possession, and despairing to cross the ford,
which was equally difficult and guarded by their whole
army, Gonsalvo, with great secrecy, proceeded to the con-
struction of a bridge a few miles above, at Suio, while
he kept his enemy busily employed in front. A succor of
three thousand men about this time reached the camp of
the Spaniards. This emboldened the decision of Gonsalvo.
His bridge at Suio was soon finished. To pass this bridge
secretly with a large body of his forces, while the rest of
his army should assail them on the front, was the well-con-
ceived project of the Spanish captain. He crossed the
Garigliano, accordingly, on the night of the 28th of Decem-
ber, 1503, the French totally unsuspecting danger from this
quarter. This strange neglect of some of the first princi-
ples of warfare will suffice to show how miserably they
were still commanded. On the following morning the
French were attacked by the enemy in front, led by Bar-
tolomeo d'Alviano. The engagement that followed was a
terrible one. The French fought with great bravery, and
their artillery did immense execution upon the Spanish
columns. But, in the midst of the conflict, and while all the
probabilities of the field were with the former, they were
suddenly assailed in the rear by the fresh army under
Gonsalvo. The surprise was complete, a panic followed,
and the day was lost. The French fled, at first, in confu-
sion, but their order was soon recovered by the great efforts

THE FRENCH LEAVE ITALY. 131

of their men-at-arms. These kept the rear, turning occa-
sionally to the encounter with their assailants, whenever their
pressure furnished the provocation, or whenever the ground
gave them an opportunity to fight with advantage. Our
hero was necessarily one of those to whom this dangerous
and arduous duty was assigned. A feeble attempt was
made by the French, at the bridge of Mola, to arrest the
progress of the exulting and advancing Spaniards, but the
effort was in vain. With little confidence in their own for-
tune, or in the genius of their general, they opposed but
a feeble resistance to their foes. The rout became com-
plete. The French lost their baggage, their artillery, and
eight thousand men. And this was the issue of the splen-
did efforts which Louis XII. had made for the recovery of
Naples. He had set his heart upon the possession of this
lovely kingdom, and the failure of his hopes was nearly fatal
to his life.

The great body of the French troops soon disappeared

from Italy after the rout of the Garigliano. But Bayard

did not depart with the main army. He, with some small

garrisons, still held for the French in Puglia, in company

with his captain, Louis d'Ars, for more than a year after

the rout of the army. These kept their ground successfully,

and in the teeth of all opposition. We are told in general

terms of frequent sallies in which he engaged during this

time, always coming off with honor and success ; but the

details of a partisan warfare are seldom put on record in the

histories of a nation, and the biographer fails us here except

in similar generalities. The garrisons of the French, and

Bayard along with them, were finally recalled from Italy.

Before his final departure he received a visit from a noble

Italian, who attempted to win his confidence by caresses

and flatteries, which were quite too little to the taste of

our hero to render the gentleman successful in his object.

He came from Rome, despatched by the pope, Julius II.,

with proposals to Bayard that he should enter the service

132 BAYARD RECEIVES AN OFFER FROM THE POPE.

of the Church, and take command of its armies, with a large
salary and the title of generalissimo. But Bayard did not
forget the counsels of his father. He was neither won by
the flatteries of the embassador nor by the tempting offers
which he brought. He replied, respectfully and gratefully,
to the successor of St. Peter, that he could never serve but
in the armies of the King of France, and that he was bet-
ter pleased to be a common soldier under his natural sov-
ereign than be the head of an army under a foreign prince.
Before leaving Italy, and when first commanded to do
so, Bayard assured his superior that he could still keep
his ground in spite of all the forces of the Spaniards. But
the orders of the French monarch were peremptory. He
was not willing to risk, by any temerity, some of his most
able warriors. The retreat which was made by the small
body of men commanded by Louis d'Ars, has been consid-
ered a remarkable proof of military skill. Reaching the
royal residence, Bayard was made equerry to the king,
and honored with the first vacant company of horse. Peace
followed with the Spaniards ; and, if the eyes of the French
were ever turned upon the kingdom of Naples, it was with
an appetite that did not seem impatient for the object of
its desire. Our hero lay inactive. Indeed, he had reason to
do so. His quartan ague, to which he had been a victim at
intervals for more than seven years, still clung to him with
the tenacity of a revengeful foe. He also suffered some-
what from an old wound of a pike, which, having been ill
attended, perhaps neglected, had produced an ulcer which
was difficult to heal. In this condition of body, the good
knight remained at Lyons. There, in 1506, he was found
when a revolt of the Genoese, at the instigation of Julius
II. and the Emperor Maximilian, again called for the pres-
ence of the French arms in Italy.

The Genoese had long been oscillating between their
desire for freedom and their fear of the power of France.
Incapable of the former condition, they were scarcely equal

BAYARD REJOINS THE ARMY. 133

to the resolution and vigor which were necessary to extri-
cate them from their dependence upon the French. They
were stimulated by those who did not succor them. The
King of France himself prepared to lead his armies against
them, and, with this knowledge, the spirit of Bayard
would not suffer him to rest. Still suffering from his wound
and ague, he regarded it as a sort of baseness to permit
his sovereign to seek the wars, and to withhold himself.
A few days sufficed to set his house in order, and we
find him again on horseback, and in the wake of the
army. He soon presented himself before the king, and was
well received. He came at a seasonable moment. The
Genoese were somewhat surprised by the rapid move-
ments of the French, not having received from their allies
the succors which had been promised them ; but they took
heart with the approach of danger, and proceeded to fortify
themselves vigorously against attack. They had occupied
the top of a mountain, which the French were compelled
to pass, with a fortress of considerable strength. This was
well manned and served with an efficient artillery. The
invaders were disquieted by this unexpected obstacle. A
council of war was held, in which opinions were divided, as
is usual on such occasions, and so divided as to lead to no
satisfactory results. Bayard, though present, was silent,
until the king looked to him and commanded him to speak.
Then he answered, " On my honor, sire, I know not yet
what to say. I must first make a reconnaissance : give me
but an hour's leave, and I will ascend the mountain and
see what is the strength of the place. In that time, unless
I am taken or slain, I shall bring you the necessary infor-
mation." The king consented, and Bayard disappeared.
He soon gathered around him a select body of his friends
and followers, to the number of a hundred or a hundred
and twenty. Some of these were distinguished noblemen,
among whom were two noble lords of the House of Foix ;
the lords of Barb a san and of L'Esparre, sons of Viscount

M

134 SKIRMISH WITH THE GENOESE.

Lautrec ; all willing to follow a leader whose experience
and chivalry, it was well known, would never lead to
any but paths of honor and distinction. His comrades
assembled, he led the way by commencing the ascent of
the mountain, which, on the side that he chose to assail,
was so steep that the object could only be effected by la-
borious climbing on hands and knees. The toil was hard
to reach the summit, where, taking breath a little, he made
his preparations for advancing upon the fortress. Mean-
while, he caused the alarm to be sounded by the army be-
low, by which to effect something like a diversion in his
favor. Resuming his advance, he soon encountered a body
of the enemy, with whom a sharp conflict ensued, resulting
in the dispersion of the Genoese. His followers would
have pursued them, but this Bayard would not allow — ob-
serving that it was necessary to see what the fort contained,
lest they should find themselves between two fires. The
event justified his caution. The fort was full of men. The
troop which had been dispersed was one that was set to
watch one of the avenues of approach. A rapid survey
satisfied Bayard that the fort itself should be attempt-
ed. His men were eager for the contest, and they were
such mostly as might be relied on. The Genoese were
three hundred in number and bearing a good countenance.
We must suppose that our hero took his precautions
properly, in bringing on the fight, so as to lessen the dis-
parity between his force and that of the enemy. The latter
fought bravely for a while, but could not long resist the im-
petuous ardor of the French. The place was captured by
a coup de main. The Genoese fled at length from its walls as
their foes entered ; and, rushing down the mountain precip-
itately, made their way toward the city ; but not without
leaving many of their number upon the field. This single
achievement, due entirely to the courage and conduct of
Bayard, was enough for the Genoese. They offered no
farther opposition to the arms of the French monarch, who

THE MEETING OF THE KINGS. 135

entered their city, and, in making the inhabitants defray the
expences of the war, received them to his gracious mercy.
Beheading a couple of their generals, and building a strong
castle at their cost, and for their protection, he was sup-
posed to have sufficiently punished the revolters, for one
season at least. The Pope, who had promised the Genoese
several thousand Bressignols — a class of foot-soldiers, the
best in Italy — failed to do so, and Maximilian came too late,
and was not permitted by the Venetians — then the allies of
France — to march into Italy. They defeated him, and com-
pelled him to a disadvantageous treaty, in which, as they
neglected to make the French a party, they naturally dis-
pleased their allies ; the consequences of which were not
slow in showing themselves. Meanwhile, the kings of
France and Arragon once more embraced in bonds of peace
and amity ; the niece of the former becoming the wife of the
latter. The two kings met in the town of Savona, where
four days were spent in secret conferences, and where, it is
not unreasonably conjectured, was originated that cele-
brated league of Cambray which involved Italy in new
calamities. The King of Arragon was attended, among
others, by the famous captain, Gonsalvo, to whom Louis
paid the most grateful attentions ; while Bayard and Captain
d'Ars were, in like manner, distinguished by the Spanish
monarch. " Happy ! my royal brother," said the King of
Arragon, "happy is the prince who can boast of two such
knights as these !" But the applauses bestowed by the
French monarch upon Gonsalvo, were probably far less
grateful to his master than were those to the ears of Louis
which the former tendered to his knights. It was at the
solicitation of Louis that Gonsalvo was permitted to dine
with the two sovereigns. This distinction was the last that
he enjoyed. As if he resented or suspected these compli-
ments, the Spanish monarch, from that day, dismissed his
great commander to unmerited disgrace. The very favors
of the French king may have offended the hauteur of the

136 SPORTS AND PASTIMES.

jealous Spaniard. This was ever the characteristic of the
race. Gonsalvo, dismissed to obscurity, without trust or
employment, and living in the frown of his sovereign, did
not long survive. Death relieved him of the odium in
which the latter years of his life were passed, and a splendid
funeral at the expense of Ferdinand may have been thought
amply to atone for the injustice which shortened his days,
and doomed his great talents to oblivion. His career, in
this respect, was far less fortunate than that of Bayard.

On his route homeward, Louis was received at Milan with
great honors, and entertained after the fashion of the times.
The brief description of this entertainment, as given us by
more than one early chronicler, will not fail to interest the
modern reader : " On this journey the Lord J. J. Trevulzio
entertained the king at a banquet where there were as
many ladies, with bunches of feathers to fan their faces
withal, as you may see plumes in a company of a thousand
gens d'arms. After supper the dancing began, and the
king himself, who could perform very well in this way,
danced with the rest, but not very much. His partner was
the Marchioness of Mantua, a wondrous fair lady. Then
he made the princes and lords who were there dance, not
even excepting the cardinals of Narbonne and St. Severino,
and some others, who acquitted themselves as well as they
could." " It was impossible to be better entertained than
they were, with dishes of the first and second course, with
farces, plays, and ot/ier pastimes"

Some time elapsed, after the return of Louis XII. to his
own kingdom, before events had sufficiently ripened to
bring about those results, to which, it is highly probable, the
conferences between himself and Ferdinand, at Savona, were
directed. In October, 1508, the plenipotentiaries of Maxi-
milian, of Louis, of the Pope, and of the King of Spain,
met in the city of Cambray, where they concluded a treaty
for the overthrow and dismemberment of Venice, that
great, proud and mercenary republic! She had lived some-

THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC. 137

what at the expense of all the neighboring states and cities,
and had made her harvest out of their misfortunes. Her
advantages of situation, the prudence of her councils, the
selfishness of her cares, her enterprise and military spirit,
had all combined to sustain her triumphantly and prosper-
ously, while the neighboring states of Italy were convulsed
by internal strifes, and torn by the army of the invader.
Her part had always been to act on the offensive. The
wealth of other states had maintained her armies ; and even
for her very conquests she had exacted compensation from
her allies. At peace with all the neighboring states, and at
the height of her prosperity, she sat unconscious, on the
edge of the volcano, whose terrible fires were silently boil-
ing beneath. She had offended, in turn, all the powers
whose representatives at Cambray had determined upon
her destruction; or from her pride, position and power,
she was likely to offend them. Pretexts are easily found to
justify a war upon which princes find it their policy to
enter; and Louis XII. promptly began his preparations for
invading the territories of his recent allies. By the terms
of the treaty he was pledged to begin the war in person,
on the 1st of April, 1509. The Pope and the King of Ar-
ragon were to take the field at the same time, and forty
days were allowed the emperor. Louis proceeded in good
faith, and with zeal, upon his task. In making his levies
he determined to effect an improvement in their character,
which his previous experience had shown him was necessa-
ry. The Swiss mercenaries were not to be trusted. Clam-
orous always for their pay, faithless themselves, they yielded
no faith to the promises of an employer ; and they too fre-
quently seized upon the moment of necessity and danger to
urge the most rapacious claims and exactions. In hiring
still a body of six thousand of this people, the French mon-
arch was resolved to resuscitate the native infantry. The
jealous fears of Louis XI. had forborne to train the
French peasantry to arms. A national militia was a terror

M*

138 FRENCH INFANTRY.

to despotism. Hitherto, the armies of France, for several
reigns, were composed of gentlemen, forming a large body
of cavalry ; while the infantry consisted of foreign mercena-
ries, with a small sprinkling of Gascons. Such an army,
good always at the commencement of an invasion, is apt to
become unserviceable as it continues. Cavalry is easily
disorganized. Its supplies are drawn from large tracts of
country, over which, in proportion as it scatters itself, it
becomes enfeebled — and once unhorsed, the cavalier is of
little use. At such a juncture, if the infantry prove unfaith-
ful, the army is sacrificed. The true remedy was in the
scheme that Louis proposed. He levied an infantry force
of fourteen thousand men, and to make it equally popular
and efficient, he persuaded Bayard, Molard, Cabannes, and
other gallant cavaliers, to command these new brigades,
and to fight on foot. To this requisition it was not easy to
persuade the French gentlemen. It required all the king's
influence to make them submit to a disposition of their
persons which they looked upon as degrading. Bayard
alone offered no objections. To him, and a few others, the
French are indebted for the first formation of a national
infantry. At the first summons for the new levies the king
sent for our hero, and declared his wishes, and the motives
by which he was governed.

"I give you," said the king, "the company of Captain
Chabilart. Your lieutenant, Pierrepoint, shall lead your
gens d'arms."

" As you please, sire ; but what number of foot will you
give me to conduct ]"

" A thousand," was the answer ; " no man hath more."

" Sire," replied the good knight, " even these are quite
too many for me. Five hundred will suffice. I swear to
you, sire, on my honor, that these shall do you good service.
Methinks even these are a heavy charge for one who should
do his duty."

There spoke the partisan warrior. The genius of Bay-

THE SWISS INFANTRY. 139

ard was evidently of this class. A small, compact body,
which he could keep always on the alert, and fly with,
hither or thither, at a moment's warning, sufficed for him,
and suited his peculiar talent best. The command of an
army would only have encumbered him — would have fet-
tered the promptness and rapidity of his movements, and
delayed those peculiar enterprises, in which he took such
delight, until the happy moment had passed in which they
might have been successful. No doubt, to descend from
the vocation of the man-at-arms to that of the foot soldier,
was, in itself, a change of duty which, without regarding
the supposed humiliations of the change, was somewhat
inconsistent with the exercise of his peculiar talent. His
whole passion wras in the service to which his youth was
trained. That he might succeed as well in another was
scarcely possible. But he offered no objections, and the
king was satisfied.

" Away," said he to Dauphiny, "and be in my duchy
of Milan by the end of March."

The time of Bayard, from this moment, was actively
employed. To him in particular was the French monarch
indebted for the first organization of his infantry. The
model was derived from the Swiss. To them, in part, was
due the overthrow of the old systems which chivalry had
engendered. They showed the ability of a close- wedged
body of foot-soldiers, bristling with pikes on every side, to
withstand the most accomplished knighthood in the world.
Their discipline was due to their organization. It was
good in the day of battle, and the Swiss were mostly faith-
ful to each other. The timid soldier was always sure of a
brother at his back and elbow. Their armor was gener-
ally simple. It consisted of casque and breast-plate ; the
latter as frequently made out of the skin of a wild beast as
of metal. They carried, for weapons, a h albert (which,
when not in use, swung at the shoulder), a sword, and a
pike eighteen feet long. Their example, strength, sue-

140 WAR WITH VENICE.

cesses — all so frequently shown as to make them the great
fighting nation of Europe, after their overthrow of Charles
the Bold, and his chivalry — originated the regular system
of infantry in Europe, began under the auspices of Louis
XII., by such captains as Bayard. By the end of March,
the French had about twenty-five thousand men in Italy,
of whom more than half were foot-soldiers.

In sight of these preparations, the Venetians, on their
side, were far from idle. With the first signs of danger
they prepared for a vigorous defence. Their efforts to ob-
tain a foreign alliance were unsuccessful. They applied
to the Pope, to the King of England, and to Bajazet, the
Turkish emperor. The republic was compelled to stand
alone against an alliance more powerful than had been
known in Europe since the Crusades. But, with vast re-
sources of wealth and intelligence, they had a spirit not
easily subdued or broken, and their generals were soon
enabled to take the field with an army of forty thousand
men. Their chief captains were Nicolo Orsino, count of
Pitigliano, and Bartolomeo d'Alviano ; both of them men of
ability and bravery. Of the latter we have already seen
something in the famous battle of the Garigliano, when the
French were defeated, and where he was second in com-
mand under the famous Gonsalvo. These generals differed
in respect to their modes of managing the war. The seriate
heard them both, and took the counsel of neither entirely.
Preparing for the defence of their strong cities, their armies
were not suffered to emerge beyond the Adda. Scarcely
had they taken the field, when the storm of war burst upon
the devoted territories of Venice, from the simultaneous
advance of all the allies. The Duke of Urbino, leading the
armies of the Pope — who was also firing off much holy ord-
nance, in the shape of ban and interdict, against his ene-
mies— passing through the territories of Faenza, stormed
the town of Birsinghalla, where he committed the greatest
enormities. The Marquis of Mantua assailed the district

BATTLE OF AGNADELLO. 141

of Verona, where he was vigorously opposed by d'Alviano;
while the French, with Louis at their head, crossed the
Adda at Cassano, and captured the towns of Trevigh, Ri-
volto, and other places — all of which were sacked. Retir-
ing before the superior forces of Count Pitigliano, they
recrossed the river, having first garrisoned the fortress of
Trevigli. The count, bombarding this place with heavy
artillery, caused its surrender after an obstinate defence ;
but his very success was hurtful to his objects, since the
excesses of his soldiery, unrestrained, led to the destruction
of the town by fire ; and their own demoralization rapidly
ensued upon their excesses. These little disasters brought
Louis back to the scene of action ; and, crossing the Adda
again at Cassano, he was soon confronted with the whole
Venetian army in the district of Ghiaradadda. We have
scarcely thought it necessary to say that in all the several
conflicts at which we have glimpsed, the " Good Knight"
continued to distinguish himself with his usual gallantly.

Louis for some time vainly endeavored to bring the Ve-
netians to a general action. They were restrained by the
commands of the senate, and by the prudence of Count
Pitigliano. But the impetuosity of Count d'Alviano favor-
ed the wishes of the French, and the engagement which
Louis sought, and which it was the Venetian policy to avoid,
became inevitable. The van of the French army was led
by the Marshal Tiivulzio, the centre by the king in per-
son, and the rear by the Lord de la Palisse, with whom
was Bayard. D'Alviano led the Venetian attack ; the Count
di Pitigliano, with the cavalry, held the centre ; while the
rear guard was entrusted to Antonio cle Pii, with the Vene-
tian commissaries. The action took place on the 14th of
May, 1509, at or near a little village called Agnadello.
The onset of the Venetians was most brilliantly made, and
for a time the issue was doubtful. At this crisis the
French nobility would have had their king retire from the
danger ; but he replied boldly, " I fear nothing, and why

142 BAYARD DETERMINES THE BATTLE.

should you ] He who fears, let him get behind me." See-
ing the troops staggered for a moment, La Tremouille cried
to them, " Soldiers ! the king's eye is upon you." The
words filled them with heroic ardor. Again the battle
closed with renewed fury, but the event still remained in-
decisive. Then it was that Bayard, with a part of the rear
guard, made a bold movement wilich determined the fate
of the day. Plunging through a morass which was deem-
ed impracticable, he made his way, breast deep, through
mud and wrater. He came unexpectedly upon the Venetian
infantry and put them to the route. This body of troops
was commanded by d'Alviano. He himself, covered with
wounds, fell into the hands of the rear guard, while the
Count di Pitigliano, beholding the defeat of the infantry,
offered no farther provocation to his fortune. He assured
himself of safety by flight, leaving nearly ten thousand men
upon the field, the rich harvest made by havoc in a short
conflict of little more than three hours. The French, who
suffered but little compared with their enemies, remained
in full possession of the field, with all the artillery, standards,
and ammunition of the vanquished.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE progress of the French, after this decisive battle,
was simply one of triumph. The terror of their arms facil-
itated their conquests. The districts of Ghiaradadda and
Caravaggio, the cities of Cremona, Bergamo, Brescia, and
Crema, were carried, some of them by a glance, while oth-
ers, such as the castles of Caravaggio and Peschiera, held
out bravely till taken by assault and storm. Great cruel-
ties, on the part of the French, stained these victories.
Louis is said to have forgotten, in this terrible progress, his
own maxims of clemency. It is probable that he knew not
all that was done by a wild soldiery, newly raised, many
of whom were foreigners, in a foreign country, and who,
no doubt, simply retorted the brutalities and cruelties of
their enemies. These events were all accomplished in the
space of a week. The remains of the Venetian army, mean-
while, fled toward Trevisano and Friuli, apprehensive mo-
mentarily of a pursuit which the conqueror did not contem-
plate. Satisfied with what he had done, Louis retired upon
the city of Milan, and soon afterward to his French do-
minions.

Such terrible reverses of fortune struck the Venetian sen-
ate with unwonted terror. Despairing of maintaining them-
selves by arms, they had recourse to policy, and now sought
to mollify the anger or gratify the ambition of their many
adversaries. To the pope, Julius II., they offered to sur-
render their possessions in Romagna ; to Ferdinand of
Spain, their cities on the Neapolitan coast ; to Maximilian,
the cities of Verona and Vicenza ; and, if they tendered
nothing to other and inferior spoilers, it was because, in the

144 BAYARD JOINS THE EMPEROR.

general spoliation, the latter had contrived to help them-
selves. But their proposals were not treated with indul-
gence. For the present, neither the pope nor the emperor
gave any heed to the supplications of the half-subdued
seignory. Stung with resentment and sustained by pride,
the first feeling of defeat and danger having subsided, the
Venetians gathered courage and began to recruit their
army. They soon worsted the emperor in several small
engagements, and at length succeeded, by treachery and
force, in rescuing from his possession the city of Padua,
which he had garrisoned with an inadequate body of eight
hundred German lansquenets. These people fought brave-
ly, but in vain. They were all put to the sword, but sold
their lives dearly, for they slew nearly twice the number of
their enemies. The place was soon fortified strongly by
Count Pitigliano, who took charge of its defences in per-
son.

The loss of this place threw the emperor into a fury,
and he despatched letters to Louis at Milan to lend him
five hundred horse, for a few months, to assist him in re-
covering what was lost. The prayer was complied with.
The detachment was commanded by the Lord de la
Palisse, and Bayard went with it as a volunteer, having
under him thirty valiant knights, the choicest of the army,
each of whom, according to the " Loyal Servant," de-
served to be a captain over an. hundred. He was once
more in his element — on horseback, a knight seeking
adventures. He was followed by two hundred more
— gentlemen volunteers — in other words, knights — who
sought for honor in the paths of peril. " There was the
Baron of Beam, who commanded part of the company of
the Duke de Nemours ; and the Baron de Conti, who led
three hundred horse ; and the Lord Theode de Trivulzio,
and the Lord Jules de St. Severin, the Lord of Humber-
court, Captain de la Clayette, the Lord de la Crote, lieu-
tenant to the Marquis of Monferrat ; and our ' Good

SIEGE OF PADUA. 145

Knight.' Among others, there went the Lord of

Bussy's eldest son, cousin-german to the Grand Master
Chaumont, who gave him twenty of his horse ; and two
gallant gentlemen, the one a native of Bretagne and a very
famous knight, named the Lord of Bonnet ; the other, the
Lord of Mypont, of the duchy of Burgundy : both of
whom the ' Good Knight' looked upon as brothers, and
honored exceedingly, well knowing how great was the
prowess which they bore within them. And now the gen-
tle Lord de la Palisse, having made the needful prepara-
tions, began to march with these noble companions in the
direction of Peschiera."

Having taken Padua, the Venetians soon conquered
Vicenza, which was a place of little strength. They had
already arrayed themselves before Verona, which would
also have fallen into their hands, but for the force under
La Palisse. The appearance of Bayard, on this occasion,
by whom the van was led, drove the Venetians back upon
Vicenza. The French reached Verona in time to relieve
the Bishop of Trent, who held the place for the emperor,
from a terrible fright. From Verona they marched upon
Vicenza, from whence the Venetians fled at their ap-
proach. Here they were joined by the Prince of Anhalt
with six thousand lansquenets. The emperor next made
his appearance after a tedious delay, which had nearly
exhausted the patience of the Frenchmen; and the army
of Maximilian proceeded, with some delay, to the invest-
ment of Padua. " The emperor," says the " Loyal Servant,"
" made the French wait for him a long time, which they
found exceedingly irksome ; but when he did make his
appearance it was after an imperial manner. Had his
forces done their part, they might have answered for the
conquest of the world." Our naive chronicler proceeds to
a description of the train of artillery brought by the em-
peror, something of which may be suggestive of novelty in
our own time. " He had six hundred pieces of ordnance

N

146 ANCIENT CANNON.

on wheels, the least whereof was a falcon,* and six large
brass bonibards,t which were not capable of being drawn
on carriages, but were conveyed along, each on a strong
cart and loaded with engines. When these great guns
were to be employed for the battery, they were laid upon
the earth, the muzzle of the piece a little raised, and a
thick billet of wood placed beneath it, giving it the proper
elevation. Behind it, as a protection against its recoil, a
huge barrier was erected. These great cannon were
charged with balls of stone, since those of metal were not
to be carried. It was only possible to play them, at the
utmost, four times during the day."

Maximilian was accompanied by at least one hundred
and twenty princes, dukes, counts and other lords of Ger-
many. He had with him about one thousand two hundred
horse, and five or six hundred gens d'arms from Hainault
and Burgundy. The German infantry, a host not to be
counted, were estimated at fifty thousand. Nor was this
all. The Cardinal of Ferrara brought twelve pieces of ar-
tillery, five hundred horse and three thousand foot. The
Cardinal of Mantua brought as many more. The whole,
monstrous rather than mighty, army of the emperor was
at least one hundred thousand men. The French subsidy
might have been dispensed with. With such a force at
command, it seems discreditable to have solicited it. But
Maximilian had, as we shall see, a modest distrust of his
own genius, which was not without proper justification.
With this numerous array he sat down before Padua.

* The falcon was a small piece of artillery, such as might be used from
walls or towers, or the windows of a dwelling. In the time of Elizabeth,
according to Meyrick, it carried a ball of a pound and a half in weight, and
measured two inches in the bore.

t The bombard was simply a great gun, as the name seems to signify,
whose size was not arbitrarily determined — the bigger, if manageable, the
better — such a gun as Captain Stockton prefers, might be called a bombard.
Bombarda — a bombo et ardere, so named because it vomits or throws forth
iron balls with a noise and flaming fire — cum somniter et flamma. See
Richardson's Dictionary.

THE EMPEROR MAXIMILIAN. 147

" Sat down" is the proper phrase in this instance, for the
feeble prince under whom the French were now to serve,
was not the person for any bold or vigorous achievement.
The Emperor Maximilian was ambitious without genius,
tenacious without firmness, and arrogant without pride.
He had the soul of a shopkeeper, rather than a prince —
was mean, mercenary and cowardly — audacious when the
danger was remote, and impotent when it approached him.
It was not long before he betrayed himself, in all his
aspects, to the French chivalry whom he had summoned to
his assistance. He loved the pomp and display of arms ;
and, in his camp, with a hundred thousand men of war, in
the presence of their enemies, he got up betimes of a
morning, and kept them parading till afternoon in the
month of August — " by no means refreshing," says our
chronicler, " to troops with their helmets on." His mas-
sive artillery was too cumbrous for use, and the approaches
to Padua were as slow as if to a funeral. It was, indeed,
a subject of some discussion, whether the place were to be
attacked at all. The council of war showed great diversity
of opinion. The lieutenant-general of the emperor was a
Greek named Constantine, whom the French suspected of
treachery, and wThom the Lord de la Palisse wished to fight
upon this issue ; but the Greek could never be persuaded of
the propriety of complying with the Frenchman's wishes.
He opposed all action, and shared, in every respect, the
timidity of his employer. But it was agreed in council
that Padua was to be besieged; as how, with such an army,
should they have determined otherwise. It was arranged
that the approaches should be made by the French gen-
d'arms and the lansquenets under the Prince of Anhalt.
But first, a little town named Monselice, having a strong
castle, some six miles from Padua, was to be taken. There
arrived in camp about this time a young Frenchman, the
Lord of Millaut, a son of the Lord d'Alegre, with a thou-
sand or twelve hundred adventurers — the very men for

148 THE DOGE LOREDANO.

active exploits and guerilla warfare. It will scarcely be.
believed that this mighty army suffered this little band of
adventurers to capture town and castle before their eyes —
none of them emulous of an exploit which they left to
strangers. Monselice taken and garrisoned, the emperor
appeared before Padua.

The city was a large one and difficult of approach. It
was defended by Count Pitigliano in person, with a force
of one thousand gend'arms, twelve thousand foot, and
some two hundred pieces of artillery. A canal passes
through the city conducting to Venice, which was distant
only eighteen miles. Leaguered however closely, of the
use of this canal it was not possible to deprive the garri-
son. The Venetians were in excellent spirits, and noways
daunted by the formidable preparations of their enemies.
They were indefatigable in preparing their defences. With
a courage and magnanimity which has seldom been equal-
led, the Doge Loredano requested that the senate would
permit his children to be sent and shut up in the besieged
city. The proposal inspired the utmost confidence, and
was received with joy. The effect was farther to induce
three hundred of the young nobility of Venice to volunteer
as the escort and companions of the children thus destined
by their parent to the horrors of a siege. Something of
the enthusiasm of the Venetians, as well as their patriotism,
may be inferred from these events.

With his camp pitched before the city of Padua, Maxi-
milian called his captains together, those of the French
especially, in whom he had great confidence, and demand-
ed their opinions as to the mode of operations. At the
conclusion of the conference it was ordered that the princi-
pal camp, occupied by the emperor in person, together with
that of the French, should be pitched near the gate leading
out to Vicenza. Another of the gates of the city was to
be confronted by the Cardinal of Ferrara, the Burgundians
and Hainaulters, with some ten thousand lansquenets. A

BAYARD BEGINS THE ASSAULT. 149

third was to be assailed and watched by the Cardinal of
Mantua and the six thousand lansquenets under the Prince
of Anhalt. These two divisions were to derive their suc-
cors from the main camp in the event of any necessity.
Minor details are here unnecessary, The great extent of
the city and its admirable defences made the duties of the
besiegers equally difficult and arduous, and rendered their
approaches no easy matter.

The opening of the terrible game was allotted to Bay-
ard. Ordered to make his approaches, he took with him
his own company and those of the young Lord de Bussy
and of the captains La Clayette and La Crote. These
officers accompanied him. In order to reach the gate look-
ing toward Vicenza, Bayard found it necessary to advance
upon a large and perfectly straight and open road, upon
which were four strong barriers or forts, each well filled
with combatants. The sides of this road were ditched,
rendering it impossible for the assailants to make any prog-
ress toward assault, except directly in the face of their
enemies. The road itself, being commanded by the city
walls, and those literally sown with artillery, the advance
of the French was necessarily made, even upon the exte-
rior batteries, in the teeth of the most formidable dangers.
Their appearance upon the great road was accordingly
followed by a terrible discharge of ordnance from the city.
But this, instead of discouraging the good knight and his
gallant companions, only prompted a brisker movement.
Once engaged in the assault upon the barricade they seem
to have been out of the sweep of the city artillery. The
first barricade was vigorously assailed. The Venetians
stood the contest bravely but the enthusiasm of the
French gens d'arms was not to be withstood.

The barriers of the Venetians did not long oppose their
entrance ; and, after a vigorous contest, the first of the re-
doubts was carried. The second offered more decided
obstacles. The fighting here was even better than at the

N*

150 THE LAST BARRIER.

/

first. Here Bayard was seconded by the arrival of the
young Lord of Millaut, with a hundred and twenty peas-
antry, trained as foot-soldiers, who did famous execution.
The contest at the second barrier was maintained for half
an hour. It was then carried ; the defenders who were in
it were driven out, and so hotly pursued, that their entrance
to the third barrier was in company with their enemies.
From this they rushed headlong to the fourth, which was
held by twelve hundred men, with three or four pieces
of artillery. These played upon the approaching French,
but without doing much mischief. Bayard, with his
eager followers, was soon beneath the bulwarks ; and
the fight was now confined to the use of pikes and arque-
busses. This last barrier was well defended. It was but
a stone's throw from the city walls, and this imparted
courage to the Venetians. The force within was consid-
erable, and its exertions were well directed. Chafed at
the length of the struggle, and at the little progress which
had been made toward a victory, Bayard cried to his im-
mediate companions, " Comrades, these people keep us
quite too long. Let us dismount, and press forward to the
barricade." Forty of them obeyed his summons. They
dismounted, raised their visors, couched their lances, and
drove straight upon the barricade. It was now as a foot-
soldier that our knight was fighting. The lance was equiv-
alent to our modern musket edged with bayonet. Bayard
found the Prince of Anh alt at his side, the Lord of Millaut,
Great John of Picardy, and Captain Mauleverer. These
were all choice spirits. A common impulse carried them
forward. They were men to be relied upon ; and the
slaughter was immense, which followed upon their desper-
ate assault. But the Venetians were so near the city, that
they were continually supplied with reinforcements. Bay-
ard, seeing this, encouraged his companions by crying out,
" They will keep us here six years, with their new succors,
unless our attack be more resolute, and all together.

BAYARD LEAPS THE BARRIER. 151

Now, every one follow me!" They cheered, and the cry
was, " Lead on!" Then said Bayard, " Sound trumpet!"
Arid, with the blast, the compact body of chosen captains,
each fit to lead an hundred men, dashed into the Venetian
array. The port of Bayard, as he rushed against the ene-
my's ranks, is described by the old chronicler as that of a
she lion robbed of her whelps. " On, comrades, they are
ours!" he cried, as he bounded over the barricades. He
was followed by thirty or forty more, upon whom the
whole force of the beleaguered was now concentrated. But
their followers did not abandon them at their peril. The
trumpet did its duty. The cry of Bayard was heard be-
yond the walls ; and when his form disappeared behind the
barricades, his troops were no longer to be kept from fol-
lowing. ''France!" and "Empire!" — "France and Em-
pire !" — sounded wildly and courageously from the equal
throats of Gaul and German, as they severally, or in emu-
lous squads, leapt over the walls ; and a few moments suf-
ficed to put the Venetians to the rout on every side. The
barriers were thus won at noonday, by hard fighting, hand
to hand. The deeds of every warrior could be seen, and
this wonderfully stimulated the courage of the ambitious
soldier. But the palm was borne away from all by Bay-
ard. He led the assault, and was the first everywhere in
the front of danger. If his reputation was great before,
this close and constant struggle, before the barriers of
Padua, contributed greatly to increase it. But these were
outer barriers, not those of the city proper. These were
only set to baffle the regular approaches of the besiegers.
Their capture simply removed certain obstacles to the
proper commencement of the leaguer.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE siege of Padua now began in right good earnest.
Works were raised, and the great guns, bombards, and fal-
cons, were brought down and planted within speaking dis-
tance of the Venetians. How the conversation was carri-
ed on between the parries shall be the subject of this chap-
ter. If the Germans were most numerous, the Venetians
were better counseled and defended ; and if the physique
of the former was beyond measure superior to that of the
latter, there was something in the superior spirit of the be-
leaguered people to compensate for their deficiencies of this
description. As managed, the siege was a slow and tedi-
ous business, which it required no great deal of prophetic
vision to see must end in defeat at last. The forces of
Maximilian occupied three camps, as we have shown
already ; and these camps, such were their numbers, were
spread over more than four square miles of land. Some
idea of the productive abundance of this region may be
gathered from the fact that, during the siege, which lasted
about two months, the foragers never had occasion to go
farther than six miles into the country to procure ample
supplies of corn, hay, oats, meal, poultry, wine, and other
necessaries. When, finally, the siege was raised, there
were destroyed, of surplus provisions, the value of more
than one hundred thousand ducats. It surely was not
because of a deficiency of food that Maximilian failed
to conquer Padua. Let us look to other causes for his
failure.

On the day after the approaches had been made, the ar-
tillery of Maximilian opened upon the city, and was main-

BOMBARDMENT OF PADUA. 153

tained for eight days with unvarying constancy and regu-
larity. Such a bombardment had not been witnessed for a
thousand years before. The three camps of the emperor
discharged more than twenty thousand shot in this space
of time, and were answered with quite as many from the
two hundred pieces of ordnance which guarded the walls
of Padua. Count Pitigliano was no ways sparing of his
responses, and betrayed a stubborn resolution in defence of
the beleaguered city, to which it finally owed its safety.
Still, it \vas not possible, in that early day, in the con-
struction of fieldworks against artillery, to protect his walls
thoroughly against the monstrous ordnance which the em-
peror had brought against them. At the end of the eight
days of bombardment, three breaches, made by the shot
from the several camps of the besiegers, were battered into
one. The passage, thus made, was sufficiently ample for
the entrance of the assailants; but the providence of Count
Pitigliano had taken such precautions that the breach avail-
ed the besiegers nothing. As soon as he discovered the
effect of the enemy's battery upon his walls, he opened a
trench in the rear of his lines, twenty feet in depth and
nearly as many in width, which he slightly covered with
fagots and dry wood, and strewed with gunpowder. At
every hundred paces along this trench he threw up a por-
tion of earth, garnished well with artillery, by which it was
completely swept. Assuming the enemy to have succeed-
ed in passing this trench, an esplanade opened before them
sufficiently spacious for the operations of the whole garri-
son. Cavalry and infantry wrere ready to do battle upon
its margin, while behind them were platforms of such eleva-
tion that their cannon might play over the heads of the gar-
rison, and upon any body of the foe who should prepare to
pass the trenches. These, also, covered the several breach-
es which had been made, and served to make the defences
of the city even more ample than before. The precautions
taken by Count Pitigliano were such that, against the will

154 PROGRESS OF THE SIEGE.

of the beleaguered, five hundred thousand troops would
have found it scarce possible to enter.

The besiegers, by means of spies, reconnaissances, and
the reports of prisoners, were soon made aware of the im-
potence of their performances. Count Pitigliano himself
was at some pains to let them know what they had to ap-
prehend in case of an assault. He took especial pains to
convey messages to the French, artfully designed to soothe
their vanity and to render them indifferent to the progress
of the emperor. " But for your presence," was his mes-
sage on one occasion, " I should sally forth, and in twenty-
four hours compel the emperor to abandon the siege."
He knew Maximilian better than the French. He took
care to remind them of the long existing friendship and
alliance between the King of France and the Venetian
seignory, and intimated that they must soon resume their
former ties of amity. These communications had their
object, but do not appear to have produced any effect
upon the French in the army of the emperor. They were
in his service at the instance of their own sovereign, and
were bound to yield obedience to his commands. But they
chafed very much at the authoiity of one of his creatures.
This was that Lord Constantine, a Greek, of whose sup-
posed treachery we have already spoken. The instance
which more particularly provoked the suspicions and an-
ger of the French originated in the detection of the mal-
practice of a cannoneer. This man, it was discovered,
instead of firing into the city, sent his bullets against one
of the three camps of Maximilian. Detected in the act,
he was thrust into one of the bombards, and shot piece-
meal among the Paduans, whose cause he had sought to
serve in another manner. The French not only claimed to
have traced his treachery to Constantine, but it was said
that the latter daily conveyed to Count Pitigliano a notice
of all that was designed against him. It is probable that
the unlucky cannoneer invented the story to divert from

LUCIO MALVEZZO. 155

himself the wrath of those who were about to subject him
to the horrible death which he suffered. Whether true or
not, the Greek escaped detection if not suspicion. Cha-
bannes, the Lord de la Palisse, pronounced him a base vil-
lain to his face, and challenged him to fight ; but the Greek,
answering nothing to the purpose, referred the whole mat-
ter to the emperor, in whose infatuation he well knew he
should always find impunity.

But these developments brought the besiegers no nigher
to their object. The artillery had done its work. The
breaches were made wide — great avenues of ruin — more
than sufficient to admit of a thousand men abreast. The
question then followed, shall the assault be made, and
when ] While the emperor debates this question with his
council, we will take up some of our fallen threads, and
proceed to show how our hero employed himself with his
gens d'arms during the time when the only warfare upon
Padua was made through the mouths of the bombards.

The Venetians, as we have more than once intimated,
were by no means wanting in the pride and courage
which make a daring soldiery. They had many young
captains among them of great enterprise and spirit, who
were emulous of a reputation such as that which had
been accorded to the cavaliers of France. The knights of
the town made frequent sallies, and the encounter, hand
to hand, brought liberal ransoms to the pockets of the
French chivalry. But they had a bold and well-trained
garrison at Treviso, some twenty-five miles from Padua,
wherein was one Lucio Malvezzo, as enterprising a war-
rior as the times could show. This bold gallant, with no
more grateful music than sword and battle-axe, beat up the
camp of Maximilian some twice or thrice a week. He
gave no warning by trumpet, but dashed upon his prey at
a single swoop. If his quarry was a good one, he made
the most of it, for he was not the person to spare himself
when there was any good result to come of his peril ; but

156 BAYARD'S STRATAGEM.

if the game was against him, he wormed himself with
great discretion out of the snare, and contrived, in the
alarm which he gave his enemy, to get quietly beyond his
reach. Messire Lucio Malvezzo grew to be famous after
this fashion, and was greatly talked about, as well by ene-
mies as friends. To prepare for him, was probably to
lose time from other objects, since nobody could con-
jecture at what moment he would make his appearance.
Nevertheless, the annoyance of Bayard at these experi-
ments of the Venetian, upon the repose and patience of
his comrades, determined him to try if something might
not be done to fetter the flight of this gay falcon. So,
putting his spies on the qm vive — and he -always had spies
in pay, to whom he was so liberal that they would have
sooner died than deceived him — he one day procured
certain intelligence upon which he prepared to act. He
had communicated to none, hitherto, his intentions ; well
knowing, that secrets of this sort, if in the keeping of more
than one, are out of all keeping. One night he strolled
quietly to the lodgings of Captain La Clayette and the
Lord of Crote, both men of conduct and spirit, and said to
them : — " This Captain Malvezzo gives us much disturb-
ance. He routs us up with the dawn, when it were far
pleasanter, after the day's fatigue, to sleep a little. We
hear, indeed, of nobody but him. Now, I am by no
means jealous of his exploits, but it grieves me that he
should have so little respect for us. I have learned some-
thing in regard to his movements, and if it so pleases
you, we shall get something of a fight out of him. It is
two days since he gave us the last alarm. I trust that we
shall meet him to-morrow morning. What say you V'
His comrades professing their readiness to join in the ad-
venture, he continued : " Then let each of you arm thirty
of your bravest gendarms two hours after midnight. I will
bring my own company, and bring with me also certain
good fellows, Bonnet, Mypont, Cossey, Brezon, and others

THE AMBUSH. 157

whom you know. We need blow no trumpet ; we must
make no noise; but, quietly taking the saddle, we will be
off. Look to me for finding you an excellent guide."

So said, so done. Between the hours of two and three,
in a soft September morning, the party was all in readiness
with a proper guide. This man was put in front, but
given in charge of four archers. Bayard gave him to un-
derstand that if he proved faithful his reward should be
ample — if false, his life should be the forfeit. The guide
was honest. He had conducted them some ten miles into
the country, when the day began to dawn. They had
reached a great palace which its owner had deserted. The
place was unoccupied. It was environed by a long wall,
and offered a good harborage.

" Here," said the guide, " if you conceal yourselves,
you shall have the opportunity you seek. Should cap-
tain Lucio Malvezzo come forth from Treviso to-day,
seeking your camp, he must, of necessity, pass this place.
Here you may lurk in safety, unseen, yet seeing all that
passes."

The fellow spoke very fairly, and his counsel pleased
our adventurers. They posted themselves accordingly with-
in the abandoned premises, under the direction of Bayard.
They had not been in watching more than two hours when
a distant sound was heard as of horses. There was an old
archer of Bayard's company, named Monart, a man of great
experience, whom the good knight instructed to climb up
into a dove-cot, within the grounds, from whence he might
note the face of the surrounding country. The archer did
as he was commanded, and soon reported the approach
of Messire Lucio Malvezzo, still at some distance, accom-
panied by a hundred gend'arms, armed from head to
heel, and followed by some two hundred Albanians, all
well mounted and effective men, under the command of
one Captain Scanderbeg, who, for ought we know, may
have been a son or grandson of the famous Prince of Alba-
CD

158 MALVEZZO IN THE SNARE.

nia.* This force was rather more numerous than Bayard
bargained for, but in such cases his net was a capacious
one. It was with no feeling but that of gratification that
he saw them appear. Keeping his own people snug, he
suffered Malvezzo and Scanderbeg, with their men, to
approach, and to pass them undisturbed. They went by,
within a stone's throw of the edifice in which the French
lay hid. When they had fairly passed, and Monart, de-
scending from his perch, had detailed all his particulars,
Bayard put his men in readiness. Each good knight
drew his horse's girth and prepared himself. Each was his
own groom, for Bayard wished not to burthen himself with
unnecessary followers, who were only apt to be trouble-
some and in harm's way.

" And" now," said Bayard to his companions, " gentle-
men, we have not met with so fortunate a chance for ten
years. True, they are twice our number, but if we acquit
ourselves bravely that is nothing. Let us after them !"

" Agreed," was the unanimous response ; and off they
darted at a quick trot on the heels of their enemies.

The chase of a mile brought them in sight of their game.
Then said our good knight to the trumpeter, " sound,
trumpet, sound!" which he did incontinently. They
were on a fine broad road, the very one which a troop of
knights would prefer upon which to make a headlong
charge. The blast of the bugle somewhat astonished the
Venetian captains, swelling as it did behind them. They
had no expectation of enemies in the rear ; nor, indeed,
until the French were nearly upon them, did they suppose
it to be other than some small squadron of their own peo-
ple. They halted just long enough to discover who the
strangers were. This known, the effect was that of a
surprise. It dismayed them somewhat to find themselves

* George Castriotto, Scanderbeg, or Alexander Bey, was born in 1404.
The date of the events before us is 1509. The name Scanderbeg is simply
a compounding of the two words, Alexander Bey

THE CHARGE OF STEEDS. 159

enclosed by their enemies — on one hand a pursuing caval-
ry, on the other the vast camps of the emperor. There was
no alternative but to face the immediate assailant. It was
some comfort to see that these were not numerous ; and
Messire Lucio Malvezzo, always fearless, now put on his
bravest aspect, and enjoined his men to do their devoir gal-
lantly. They were shown that their only hope lay in their
own valor. Escape was none. They must vanquish or
be vanquished. But few words were necessary for this
explanation. Each warrior beheld the necessity for him-
self. Flight, even to the right or left, was cut off. The
road was bordered on each side by monstrous ditches,
beyond the leap of any horseman. Fortunately, it was one
of sufficient breadth to enable the gallant knight to course
famously. A fine rider might achieve wonders on so excel-
lant a track. Fight was inevitable. The trumpets on
both sides began to blare, and when the foes were a bow-
shot asunder they began to rush into the melee, with the
mingling war-cries of "France," and "Empire," and "San
Marco !" Verily, says the " Loyal Servant," who him-
self beheld the deeds of his master, the good knight — " ver-
ily, it was a joy to hear them." It must have been. At
the first encounter many knights went down and the fight
went over them. Bonnet, one of Bayard's companions,
was the first to send his lance through the breast of an
enemy. The shaft showed itself on the other side. But
this was not the only gallant stroke. It was an hour for
hard blows and deadly thrusts, and each man did his best.
It was while the strife was liveliest that the keen eyes
of Bayard saw the Albanians suddenly disappear from the
high road, leaving their cavalry to cany on the conflict.
Our hero was too good a partisan to suffer this movement
to escape him. Turning to La Crote, he said — " These
people would take us in the rear. See to it, that we be not
surrounded, and the day is ours." A word was sufficient
for La Crote, who, detaching certain of the command, put

160 MALVEZZO ESCAPES.

himself in readiness, and when the Albanians least expected
resistance, gave them an encounter so hot and heavy as to
disperse them in a moment, a score of them remaining on
the ground, while the rest betook themselves to unhesitating
flight. The " gentle" captain did not suffer himself to lose
'time in pursuit, but returned at once to the assistance
of Bayard. But the work was finished ere he reached the
ground. The Venetians were already routed, and each
gend'arm, no longer thinking of blows, was busied only in
securing his prisoner. The thought now was of the ransom
of the field — its glory was already secure. Lucio Malvez-
zo, after making gallant fight in vain, made off successfully.
He succeeded in baffling pursuit by means of the noble
animal he rode. Twenty or thirty more escaped with him,
being well mounted, and fled with all speed to Treviso.
The pursuit was feebly urged. The French were encum-
bered with their prisoners, whose numbers were greater
than their own. No less than an hundred and eighty cap-
tives rewarded this adventure, whose ransom promised to
replenish coffers which were almost as soon emptied as
filled. These captives, disarmed of their swords and
maces, were placed in the midst of the French, and in this
way were carried safely into camp.

Maximilian was ravished at the sight. The intelligence
of the adventure soon reached him from a dozen quarters.
He sallied out to enjoy the spectacle. It was one which
he had not often witnessed. Two standards, and nearly
two hundred prisoners, won by a less number of lively
Frenchmen. He was exceedingly gracious, and saluted our
good knight and his companions in a fashion less imperial
than usual, perhaps, but far more gracious. His com-
mendations were no ways stinted. Each captain had his
share of praise. To Bayard he said :

" Lord of Bayard, my brother, King Louis, is very for-
tunate in having such a captain as yourself. I would give
a hundred thousand florins a year for a dozen such."

BAYARD'S FIDELITY. 161

" Sire," answered Bayard, " it is your pleasure and not
my deserts that move you to this praise. For your com-
mendations I must humbly thank you. Thus much I am
able to say, that while my prince is your ally, you will find
no captain more faithful than myself.'

o'

CHAPTER XV.

THIS adventure contributed greatly to relieve the monot-
ony of the camp, and was particularly interesting, as it so
strikingly contrasted with the slow progress of the main
action. Bayard, of course, carried away the chief honor,
though his admirers are careful to tell us that he himself
ascribed the merit mostly to his two companions, "for a
more gracious and generous knight the whole world could
not produce." Bayard was not one of those persons who,
having done well, cease performance and rely upon the
credit of past achievements. He knew well that repu-
tation was to be maintained by renewed performances, and
that the only way to keep one's honor bright was to refresh
it frequently with new deeds of honor. Once in the saddle,
and with lance couched, his spirit was no longer satisfied
to rest, and a few days after the excursion against Messire
Lucio Malvezzo, he prepared for a second, in another quar-

ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 163

tcr. His spies, always on the alert, had apprised him that
the Albanian chief, Scanderbeg, with his squadron, whom
Captain La Crote had dispersed in the late affair, had re-
tired into the Castle of Bassano, whence, in company with
a troop of crossbow-men, commanded by Rinaldo Conta-
rini, they made frequent sallies upon the small parties, for-
agers, herdsmen, lansquenets and others, as they went to
and from the camp of the Germans. Operating thus, and
with some judgment and spirit, they had, in the course of
three days only, defeated several parties and relieved them
of four or five hundred head of cattle. There was a pass,
close by the foot of the mountain upon which the Castle
of Bassano stood, where, it was shown to Bayard, these
excellent captains might be encountered almost any pleas-
ant morning by those who had the heart to seek them.
Bayard had reason to confide in this report, which was
confirmed by one of his emissaries, in \vhose fidelity he
could trust. Having ascertained that the number of Alba-
nians and archers under Scanderbeg and Contarini were
only about two hundred, he determined to carry the ad-
venture through himself, without calling for the help of
other captains. He had a select body of thirty gend'arms,
and some eight or ten gentlemen, who had volunteered
under his banner for the good will they bore him, and in
order to acquire the art of war from one of its best practi-
cal teachers. This force he well knew was not of a kind
to be baffled easily — not to be scattered in a panic — but
one which could stand a mortal buffeting for several hours.
To these only he revealed his purpose. They at once de-
clared their delight in being made partakers in the adven-
ture ; arid he counselled them how and when to put them-
selves in readiness. An hour before daybreak, one fine
Saturday morning — our chronicler is precise in particulars
of this sort — in the month of September, they were in the
the saddle, and fifteen miles on the road before they drew
bridle. Reaching the pass which they were to occupy in

164 THE Q.UEEN OF CYPRUS.

ambush, without being discovered, they put themselves in
as snug a harborage as possible, within cannon-shot of the
castle on whose inmates they designed to pounce. Their
patience in this ambuscade was not too severely tried.
After a little while they heard the trumpet of the garrison
sounding to horse, at which each trooper pricked his ears
with exultation. Bayard then consulted with his guide as
to which road the enemy would probably take. The an-
swer was that it mattered nothing, for, whatever might be
their object or destination, they must still pass a certain
little bridge, a mile from the place of ambush, which a
couple of men might keep against as many hundred. This
bridge passed, it was only necessary to hold it with a
small force, so that their return might be prevented. This
done, another pass enabled Bayard to make a sudden cir-
cuit of the mountain, so that the Albanians must necessa-
rily be encountered on the plain. The guide designated
the place more particularly as between the spot they occu-
pied and the palace of the Queen of Cyprus. This Queen
of Cyprus, by the way, was no mock, though retaining only
the title of a queen. She was a Venetian lady, one Car-
lotta Carnaro, who became the wife of James, king of
Cyprus. At the death of this prince, and conformably to
his will, the widow succeeded to the sovereignty of the
island. But those cunning traders, her countrymen, so
managed as to inveigle her out of her little empire, which
she abdicated in their favor. In return for this civility
and crown they conferred upon her the vague title of
Daughter of St. Mark — no doubt to the equal gratification
of the lady and the saint — and gave her certain estates be-
sides in the Trevisan. Here, eight miles from Padua, she
built a palace — a house of pleasure — which the Venetians
called the palace of the Queen of Cyprus. But the nymph
no longer occupied the gardens, and the palace, abandoned
at the approach of contending armies, no longer maintained
the seductions which might have beguiled knighthood from

THE SKIRMISHERS. 165

its severer duties. Our gend'arms heard of the Cypiian
palace without forgetting Scariderbeg and his Albanians.
" Very good," said Bayard, at the suggestions of the spy,
" and now, gentlemen, which of you will maintain the
bridge V

The Lord of Bonnet said, " My horse and I, with a few
of your people, will guard it if you please !"

" Be it so," answered Bayard. " Take with you Little
John de la Vergne, and half a dozen gend'arms, with as
many archers. These will probably suffice."

While they were arranging this matter, they discerned the
Albanians and crossbow-men descending from the castle.
They went forth as if going to a marriage feast. Their
spoils and successes during the three preceding days had
beguiled them into a forgetfulness of the usual caprices of
fortune ; and the French knights as they looked forth and
beheld the life and confidence with which the enemy
emerged from their fastnesses, thought, with a grim delight,
of the fate of that goodly pitcher, of which the proverb tells
us, that was earned once too often to the well. They wait-
ed in cool decision, and a patience that knew how to confide
in their leader, until the Albanians had fairly gone by ; then
sending Bonnet with his squad to secure the bridge, Bayard,
with the rest, under the guidance of the spy, set forward
by the shorter pass. In less than an hour they reached the
open plain — so open and so level, that, from the position
which they occupied, a man on horseback might be seen
some six miles off. They were seasonably in position.
Their enemies were soon discovered, at long culverin-
shot, on the road to Vicenza, and thinking only of their
spoils.

" Now!" said Bayard to the Bastard Du Fay, who bore
his standard — " Now, sir, take with you twenty of your
archers, and go skirmish with these people. Seeing you
so few, they will charge upon you no doubt. At this, turn
you the heads of your horses, as though you were afraid,

166 SCANDERBEG DEFEATED.

and bring them hither. I shall await you by the foot of
this mountain, and you shall enjoy brave sport."

Du Fay needed no clearer instructions. He was an old
soldier, and thoroughly versed in all the little strategics of
the partisan. Putting spurs to his charger's flanks, he at
once led offhis archers, and before long brought them within
the vision of the Albanians. All turned out as Bayard had
anticipated. Scanderbeg, at the sight of the white crosses,
the badges worn by the Frenchmen, soon put his bands in
motion, and setting fiercely upon the archers, made the air
ring with the cry of" San Marco !" Struck, as by sudden
terror, Du Fay wheeled incontinently round, and made with
moderate speed for the mountain where the good knight had
planted his ambush. But the keen pursuit of Scanderbeg
compelled Du Fay to exchange his easy retreat for a hurried
flight. The standard-bearer did his part excellently well,
and brought the easily -beguiled Albanian into the very
jaws of the lion. Heated and scattered by the chase, the
people of Scanderbeg, in the moment of their utmost confi-
dence and triumph, were encountered by a fresh and pow-
erful party. Suddenly, at a bound, Bayard and his men-
at-arms were out upon him. At the first shock thirty of
the foe were tumbled headlong from their saddles, and
this first shock decided the conflict. The Albanians fought,
and fought well, all the circumstances considered ; but such
a blow as they had received at the opening of the conflict was
more than half the battle. They fought vainly; and, after a
struggle more or less fiercely disputed, in which they failed
to recover that delightful state of assurance with which they
had pursued the archers of Du Fay, they themselves turned
in flight, at a great gallop, thinking to gain their fortress of
Bassano. The French pursued with all their ardor, but
the light-horse of the Albanian force would have escaped
the more heavily-mounted troopers of the French, but for
the precaution which had left Bonnet and Mypont in pos-
session of the bridge. The captains, Scanderbeg and Con-

GUY GUIFFRAY. 167

tarini, found a new enemy in waiting where they least ex-
pected one. They must now either fly at a venture across
the country or resume the fight. But the hard knocks
which they had already received determined them against
the latter alternative, and the pursuit had been so hotly
urged as to make it doubtful whether they should succeed
by .flight. But the attempt was made, and proved unsuc-
cessful. So \vell had the French knights scattered them-
selves over the plain, that all the avenues were guarded.
The result gave them sixty Albanians and thirty crossbow-
men prisoners. Both Scanderbeg and Contarini were
among the captives. The rest of the force escaped to
Treviso.

In the course of this combat, one of those exciting little
incidents occurred, by which we have a whole volume in
regard to the manners of the time and of chivalry. There
was, in the troop of Bayard, a lad of sixteen or seventeen,
one Guy, or Guiges Guiffray, a son of the Lord of Boutieres.
He came of good stock, and belonged to what was called,
in Dauphiny, the scarlet of the nobility. His uncle was one
of those brave fellows who fought under Bayard in the
combat already related, of thirteen French against thirteen
Spaniards. The nephew, destined hereafter greatly to dis-
tinguish himself, made a beginning on this occasion which
greatly pleased his master. The boy had only six days
before been admitted among the archers of Bayard, and
naturally longed to distinguish himself, and to emulate his
kindred. It was while the combat was raging most fiercely
that he beheld the standard-bearer of Rinaldo Contarini's
crossbow-men throw himself over a ditch, with the intention
of escaping. Guy Guiffray, seeking a prominent foe, took
the leap after him; and the first salutation of the standard-
bearer was a thrust from the demi-lance of the boy, which
brought him to the ground. The lance was shivered by
the blow, such was the honest earnestness of the assailant.
Throwing away the useless weapon, Guiffray drew his

168 BASSANO.

sword, and bestrode his enemy. "Yield, ensign," said be,
" or I kill thee." The ensign saw not the size of the lad —
saw nothing but his own danger ; and still entertaining a
decent sense of the pleasures of life, he found it prudent to
comply with a summons so imperatively urged. He gave
himself up accordingly ; and Guiffray, happier than if he
had found a purse of a thousand crowns, made his captive
remount, and led him straightway to Bayard, who, having
more prisoners than he well knew what to do with, had
caused the retreat to be sounded. The Lord of Bonnet
first beheld the approach of young Boutieres, and cried to
Bayard, " Look you, sir, I pray you, at Guy Guiffray, who
cometh with a prisoner and a standard, both of which he
hath taken." Bayard, who loved the boy, and had him in
special training, was as much delighted with the event as
Guy himself; and when the youth approached, he said to
him, " How, Boutieres, have you alone won this prisoner
and standard ?" "Yes, indeed, my good lord," replied the
boy, " such was God's will ; and he did wisely to surren-
der, otherwise, I should have killed him."

His answer delighted the company — the good knight in
particular — the company laughing at the earnestness with
which the boy declared himself. " Boutieres, my friend,"
said Bayard, " you have made a gallant beginning. God
grant that you persevere always in the same manner."
The words did not fall upon unheeding senses. The train-
ing of our chevalier was not wasted on the lad, who, in
process of time, commanded with great distinction in Pied-
mont, and made such a gallant defence of Mezieres against
the army of the emperor, as to arrive at the command of an
hundred gend'arms. For the present, we put him out of
sight ; though the adventure with the standard-bearer, his
captive, is by no means finished.

Meanwhile, Bayard had been examining the castle of
Bassano. " Gentlemen," he said to those around him, " we
must have this castle. There is great booty, no doubt,

BAritiANO YIELDED. 169

within its walls, which would be useful in the hands of
our people."

"Yes, indeed," was the answer; "but how are we to
come at it 1 It is strongly fortified, and we are without
artillery."

" Hold your peace," answered Bayard, good-humoredly.
" I have a method which, it strikes me, will give us the
place, with all its booty, in half an hour."

This said, he called up the two captains, his prisoners,
Scanderbeg and Contarini, and thus addressed them :

" Gentlemen, we must have this castle of Bassano, and
you must cause it to be delivered to us immediately. You
are here in command, and it is in your power to yield it.
Your lives depend upon it; for I vow to God, if you re-
fuse, your heads shall swing before its gates within the
hour."

We are not sure that the character of modern warfare
would justify the process which was employed by Bayard
to effect his object. It will suffice, for his justification, how-
ever, that the proceeding was sanctioned by the military
practice of his time, and found no rebuke then, even " in
mouths of wisest censure." Reasoning with regard to in-
trinsic laws — war itself having first found its sanction — it
does not seem that we can rebuke any of the acts by which
a victory is won. Convention, however, sets up different
standards, according to the caprices rather than the progress
of civilization, and we must always guard against assump-
tions arising from what is simply a practice, without look-
ing, while we do so, to the application of first principles.
Enough for us that Scanderbeg and Contarini were very
greatly frightened by this declaration, which, it is highly
probable, was meant only to intimidate them. They prom-
ised to do whatever they could, and as the commandant left
with the garrison was a nephew of Scanderbeg, the result
was favorable to the wishes of our knight, who, within the

P

170 THE VENETIAN ENSIGN.

time specified, found himself in possession of the castle, with
all its goods and chattels.

The spoil was considerable, and belonged, according to
the usage of the time, entirely to the captors. There were
more than five hundred cows and oxen, with a great vari-
ety of other plunder, which was equally divided to the sat-
isfaction of all the parties. The cattle made its way to the
markets of Vicenza ; the other spoil was disposed of more
summarily. The distribution over, our knight sat down to
a repast which had been prepared, and the two Venetian
captains wrere invited to his table. Here, as they were
about to finish their meal, the youthful Boutieres made his
appearance, bringing his prisoner with him. The contrast
was so odd and striking between the two that Bayard
laughed outright. The prisoner was thirty years of age,
and almost twice the height of the little archer. Then said
our chevalier to the Venetian captains, " Gentlemen, this
young lad whom you see was but six days ago a page —
his beard has not a three years' growth, yet you see he hath
taken your standard-bearer. We hold this to be a curious
circumstance. Now, I know not what is the custom with
you, but we French are wont to confide our standards to
none but the most valiant."

The Venetian ensign was deeply mortified. He saw that
he had lost his honor by the event, but he was not without

his apology " Faith, captain," said he, " I yielded to

him by whom I was taken, not through any fear of him,
for he, of himself, is not the person to make me captive. I
might easily have escaped out of his hands, or from those
of a better warrior, but I could not hope to contend with
your whole troop alone."

Bayard looked significantly to the little Boutieres, and
said — " Do you hear, G-uy, what your prisoner says — that
you are not the man to take him 1"

The answer of the boy was precisely what the chevalier

THE YOUNG ARCHER. 171

expected. In great heat, lie replied, — " I entreat of you a
boon, my lord."

" Ay, marry," quoth the knight, " and what is the boon,
Boutieres ]"

"Only," said he, "that I may restore the prisoner his
anus and his horse, that I may mount mine, and that wo
may both go at once to the courts below. But if I con-
quer him a second time, let him look for nothing but death
at my hands. If he does escape, let him go free of ran-

som.'

Never had Bayard been better pleased. This was in
the very spirit of chivalry. " In good sooth, Boutieres,"
cried the knight, aloud, "you have my permission; be
it as you desire."

" Hear you, prisoner 1" cried the boy to the Venetian.
But he spoke to vacant ears. The poltroon shrunk from
the alternative proposed to him, and the result was fatal
to his character. The triumph of the young archer was
complete, and none was more proud of his pupil than the
master. It was not the smallest merit of Bayard that he
knew so well how to infuse, with his own noble and fear-
less spirit, all who served beneath his banner.

CHAPTER XVI.

IF the drowsy-headed Maximilian was charmed with
the adventure of Bayard against Messire Lucio Malvezzo,
that which he had just achieved in the capture of Bassano
and the taking of the two captains, Scanderbeg and
Contarini, ravished him still more; and was, indeed, the
talk of the whole camp for a week arid more. Such per-
formances were not common under the banner of a prince
so really feeble and unperforming as the emperor. The
skill, spirit, confidence and prompt military resource which
Bayard's performances usually displayed, were such as
would have made him remarkable under any leader. The
French, of course, were full of glee and exultation, while
the Germans, Burgundians, and Hainaulters, all contend-
ed in bestowing the warmest applauses upon our cham-
pion. Nor was little Boutieres without his share "of the
glory. His achievement excited merriment wherever it
was related, but a merriment which honored the subject
of it, without disparagement either of his spirit or his
performance.

But the partisan was to give way for the heavily-armed
soldier. The proceedings of the camp must now receive
our attention. Padua has been battered, as we have seen,
into a breach sufficiently capacious to receive an army.
Shall the army penetrate this breach] It was while Maxi-
milian and his chiefs were discussing this question, that
Bayard went forth seeking adventures. At his return, the
question was still unanswered. There was no lack of con-
sultation on the subject. It was time to come to a conclu-
sion. The emperor, deliberative as he was in his move-

THE BREACH. 173

ments, at length began to feel somewhat ashamed of the
delay, particularly after a personal survey of the breach,
which was nearly half a mile in extent. Of course, we
remember the precautions taken by Count Pitigliano,
within Padua, against the assault. These were all known
to the besiegers. In some degree, they were the cause
of this delay.

The result of the emperor's personal inspection of the
breach was the following letter to Chabannes, the Lord de

O 7

la Palisse, commanding the French troops in his army : —

" MY COUSIN,

" I examined, this morning, the breach we have made
in the walls of the town, and find it sufficiently large for
such as will do their devoir. I deem it expedient, there-
fore, that we should this day make the assault. I must
entreat of you accordingly, that, when you shall hear my
great drum sound, which will be at noon, you will, with
the gentlemen under your command, in my service as in
that of my brother, the King of France, repair to the said
assault along with my foot-soldiers. With the aid of God
I hope we shall carry the place."

This was a communication to astonish Chabannes. He
certainly regarded it with some dissatisfaction as well as
surprise. But, dissembling his thoughts and feelings, he
said to the secretary of the emperor, who, in person had
brought the letter, " Really, sir, I wonder that the em-
peror hath not thought it proper to send for my companions
and myself, the better to advise upon this assault. How-
ever, you will say to him that I shall call them together
and communicate what he hath wiitten. I may venture
to say, whatever we may think of it, that none of us will
f-\i\ in yielding obedience to what he is pleased to com-
mand."

The offensive feature of this communication lay in the

p*

174 PREPARATIONS FOR ASSAULT.

requisition that they who came as knights, as warriors on
horseback, men of good family and gentle blood, were to
fight as common soldiers along with the German infantry.
But the discussion which followed among the French cap-
tains will better declare their feeling on the subject. While,
therefore, the secretary of Maximilian returned to his mas-
ter with the answer of Chabannes, the latter called his offi-
cers together, and the consultation proceeded in his tent.
Meantime, the bruit had gone abroad that the assault was
to be made that day, and the religious feeling of the gen-
d'arms rose to the ascendant. The "Loyal Servant," who
was Bayard's secretary, was no good friend to the priest-
hood. The abuses of the holy office in which they offici-
ated have too often brought discredit upon the faith which
they professed. " Then," says our chronicler, " were the
priests retained by sums of gold to hear confession — a mar-
vellous circumstance — all being anxious to be put in prop-
er condition for such change as might happen at such a
juncture. And many gens d'arms gave them their purses to
keep ; by reason whereof, no doubt, their reverences would
have been far from displeased had they whose wealth was
in their keeping perished in the assault." And the amount
of money seems not to have been small. The writer from

if

whom we quote says, that " so much money, had not before,
for five hundred years, been seen in the camp of any
prince."

Leaving the gens d'arms at the confessional, we return to
the consultation in the tent of Chabannes. On the entrance
of his officers, this nobleman addressed them, playfully, in
this language : " Gentlemen, it is fit we dine; for that which
I have to relate, might, if you heard it before your dinner,
somewhat diminish your relish for it." " Now," says the
" Loyal Servant," " these were only words in jest. Chaban-
nes knew his companions well. He knew that not one
among them but was a second Hector or Orlando, not to
be confounded by any thing that he either saw or heard.

THE LORD OF HUMBERCOURT. 175

Still less could lie suppose that his communication would
daunt the spirit of our ' good knight.' : They proceeded,
accordingly, to dinner, which the chronicler describes as a
merry one. They broke their jests as well as their bread
together, and bore with a world of raillery, which they re-
turned, all in the best of humor. The Lord de la Palisse
was particularly keen in his thrusts at the Lord of Humber-
court, who gave him as good as he sent, and in the same
bright metal. The repast was finished as it had begun, in
a joyful and pleasant temper. And now for business.

The letter of Maximilian was read by Chabannes, twice
over, in order that nothing of it might be misunderstood.
This duty performed, the laughter of the knights succeed-
ed. But no one, for some time, thought of offering any coun-
sel. The subject was one of considerable difficulty. They
were sent, by the special order and choice of their own sov-
ereign, to honorably serve another. Undoubtedly, had the
King of France required them to march on foot into the
trenches of Padua, they had done so without a murmur.
Should they refuse to serve, in like manner, the prince to
whom they were sent ? The point of honor made each of
them hesitate to answer in the affirmative. And yet, there
was a substantial difference. They were sent to Maximil-
ian as knights, to serve on horseback, and not as foot-sol-
diers. They were sent as nobles, and not as hirelings. The
distinction, in our day still obvious, was far more apparent
then. We have, only a short time before, seen the French
monarch consenting to arm his peasantry and make a na-
tive infantry, to command which it was difficult to persuade
his nobles. This fact will convey some faint idea of the dis-
gust which the requisition of the emperor caused among
the French cavaliers in his army. The Lord of Humber-
court was the first to break the silence. The nut was too
hard for him to crack, and he was prepared to swallow it.

" Why all this pondering and hesitation, my Lord de la
Palisse '? Say to the emperor that we are all in readiness.

176 THE KNOT UNTIED.

For my part, I begin to tire of the country. The nights
are getting cold, and, what is worse, the better sorts of
wine are failing us." Merrily laughed these gay compan-
ions at the speech of their comrade. His philosophy was
that of most around him. They felt as he did, and were
not prepared to handle the difficulty with better skill. All
spoke, expressing themselves after the same fashion — all
except Bayard. He alone kept silent, picking his teeth, or
pretending to do so — a practice which does not appear to
have been unbecoming in those days after dinner, as we
pronounce it to be now. He seemed to pay very little
attention to what the rest had been saying. At length,
Chabannes addressed him in particular, and with a smiling
manner, " Come ! you French Hercules, what do you say
to this matter1? This is no time to be picking your teeth.
Remember, it is an emperor that waits."

The sagacious warrior had not been idly meditating the
subject. He alone saw how the knot was to be untied —
in what way to crack the nut which each captain had turned
between his teeth in vain. The good knight, who had
ever a habit of jesting, replied gayly, " If we are to credit
my Lord of Humbercourt, we have nothing to do but to
march into the breach. For my part, as I conceive it sorry
sport for gendarms to go afoot, I would prefer to be ex-
cused. However, since it is my opinion that you seek, you
shall have it. The emperor, it appears, commands, in his
letter, that you should make all the French gentlemen, go to
the assault on foot, along with his lansquenets. Though
possessed of little wealth, my lord, I am still a gentleman.
All of you are great lords, and of great families : so are
many of the gendarms under us. Does the emperor deem
it a fitting thing that such noble persons should be placed
in the same ranks, exposed to the same service, with his
rabble of all sorts, the scum of his people, none of whom
have any sense of what is clue to men of high degree, or
even of honor ? Saving his imperial grace, there is some-

IVEYV DIFFICULTIES. 177

thing very unseemly in such an arrangement." A pause
followed, in which the justice of this opinion was admitted.
Bayard continued —

" My counsel is, my Lord de la Palisse, that you convey
•to the emperor this answer — that you have had your cap-
tains assembled in consultation ; that they are prepared to
execute his orders, as it was given them in charge to do by
the king their master. You will then remind him of what
he knows — that the King of France admits none but per-
sons of gentle birth among even his ordinary men-at-arms.
Say to him, then, that to require such as these to fight
among common foot-soldiery — persons of low condition —
would be treating them with indignity. You will then say
that, as he has with him many counts, lords, and noblemen
of Germany, if he will order them to go on foot with the
gendarms of France, we will cheerfully show them the
way into the breaches of Padua. His lansquenets may
then follow if the assault should promise to be successful."

This was the way to get at the kernel of the difficulty.
The sentiments of Bayard, and his suggestion, at once
seized upon the convictions of the rest. His plan was at
once respectful and reasonable. It did not deny the required
service, but it coupled it with the only condition which
could keep them from being dishonored and disgraced by
it. The Lord de la Palisse yielded his consent ; and, couch-
ing the views of the French knight in the most deferential
language, in a letter to the emperor, he required them to put
themselves in armor, awaiting the summons of that august
personage, to the battle and the breach. The communica-
tion opened new difficulties to Maximilian, which he does
not seem to have anticipated. He professed to think the
views of the French captains to be only proper, and forth-
with commanding his drums and trumpets to be sounded,
he called together his retinue, consisting of all the princes,
lords and noblemen then in his camp, from Germany, Bur-
gundy and Hainault. But when he unfolded to them the

178 MAXIMILIAN IN COUNSEL.

response and the requisition of the French knights — show-
ing the readiness of these to enter the imminent deadly
breach, on foot, as infantry, provided the gentlemen of Ger-
many would do the same — when he concluded with entreat-
ing them to concur in the arrangement, which would surely
vanquish the Paduans at the first assault — there arose such
a universal hiss and hubbub as saluted the ears of Satan,
when he unfolded to his followers the successes which he

had had in Eden —

" Expecting

Their universal shout and high applause,
To fill his ear ; when, contrary, he hears
On all sides, from innumerable tongues,
A dismal, universal hiss, the sound
Of public scorn ; he wondered "

And so did the emperor ; who was then made to under-
stand, for the first time seemingly, how monstrous had
been the requisition which he had made upon the French
knights. It was a good half hour before the hubbub could
be allayed among his Germans, Burgundians and Hai-
naulters. They soon let him know " that they were not
persons to be driven to the breach on foot — their place was
on horseback, fighting like gentlemen." And the excellent
Maximilian could extort from them no more favorable
reply. The valiant emperor was confounded. He called
to him his best counsellors, he viewed and reviewed the
matter, and the result was that there must be farther delib-
erations. There was no entering the breach that day, and a
special message to this effect was sent to the Lord de la
Palisse. Then it was, according to our "Loyal Servant,"
that the gendarms forgot their prayers of the morning, and
withdrew from the priests the money which, had they per-
ished, would no doubt have been applied to pious uses.
The priests, alone, according to this satirical character,
were dissatisfied with the event. " Certes, the priests were
not over-delighted when they had to restore what they had
in keeping." The French knights threw aside the weap-

HE DISAPPEARS. 179

ons of war, for that day, more or less satisfied with the
respite.

It is due to the Prince of Anhalt to declare, that he
openly avowed his disgust at what had taken place ; and
avowed his personal readiness, with his immediate compan-
ions, to join with the French knights in entering the breach
on foot. He made this offer to the emperor while all the
rest hung back; and, seeking the French, renewed the
offer to them also. But the attempt, with so small a body
of men, was simply devoting them to destruction, and such
a sacrifice was needless for any other object than simply
to retrieve the disgrace of the commander-in-chief, the em-
peror himself. There was yet one more proceeding neces-
sary to fasten upon this prince the discredit of being faith-
less to his allies. The very night of this famous council
he stole away from the camp, and took post no less than
forty miles distant from it. The fact was not known among
the French till the day after. What prompted this move-
ment it is difficult to suggest. Maximilian was not a per-
son of the very nicest sensibilities ; yet there may have been
some little shame to annoy him, as there was certainly some
mortification, when he found his own chivalry unwilling to
do that which he had not scrupled to require the French
knights to perform. Accompanied by six hundred chosen
followers, he took the route toward Germany, and the next
day sent word to his lieutenant-general, Constantine, and to
the Lord de la Palisse to raise the siege as decently as they
could — a most lame and impotent conclusion, which filled
the besiegers with shame and amazement, and the besieged
with equal joy and exultation. But there was no remedy.
The breach being made, they did not stop to repair it,
though that might have been only a becoming and Christian
act on the part of the emperor. A council was held among
the leaders in the camp, in order to a compliance with the
will of their superior. They had only to obey, and their
deliberations concerned only the mode of doing so with

180 THE SIEGE OF PADUA RAISED.

most propriety. To raise the siege was a job quite as
serious as to begin it. The bombards and the cannons,
and the falcons, were to be withdrawn, and there were
no longer carnages for one half of them. To the French
was assigned the arduous duty of keeping guard while
they were carried away. They were assisted in this most
troublesome and perilous duty by the generous impulse
of the Prince of Anhalt, who, with seven or eight hun-
dred men, volunteered to share the task. The burden of
the war really fell upon this small fragment of this mon-
strous army. The Venetians, emboldened by the flight
of Maximilian, and the breaking up of a camp which,
having threatened so much, had done nothing, now indulged
in continual sallies. The gendarms were kept fighting
from the break of day till two hours after night, scarcely
suffered time to take their food, and never entirely without
an alarm. The sallies from the town were conducted with
great spirit and in large numbers ; and the miserably-inef-
ficient mode of conveying the artillery subjected the escort
to a delay so tedious as to exhaust their strength and elas-
ticity, even if it left their courage unimpaired. The French
were compelled to protect themselves equally against
the lansquenets and the Venetians. The former were ter-
rible incendiaries. They burnt, invariably, the lodging
that gave them shelter, and would have burnt the house-
keeper also, were he so unwise as to afford them the
opportunity. Some of the handsome houses which the
troops occupied were protected with difficulty from these
wretches, by the soldiers and painstaking of our " Good
Knight." At length the artillery was fairly on the road for
Germany, and, with but small loss to the defenders, consid-
ering the frequent fighting. The French finally reached
Vicenza, the emperor not seeing them, but in some degree
atoning for his deficiencies in other respects, by sending
presents of various value to their chief captains, our hero
not being forgotten. The Lord de la Palisse and his com-

VERONA. 181

panions returned to the duchy of Milan, while Bayard,
with the greater number of the gendarrns who had been
lent to Maximilian, went into garrison at Verona. Here we
shall have occasion to hear of him, as the war still continued
between the King of France and the. Venetians, the latter
holding a large garrison at Legnano, which frequently
engaged the attentions of the Veronese.

Q

CHAPTER XVII.

To Verona soon came the feeble garrison which the em-
peror had placed in Vicenza. They were driven out by
the approach of a large force of the Venetians, against
which they knew that the place could never be maintained.
They added somewhat to the strength of Bayard's garri-
son, which the contiguous enemy kept busy. The Vene-
tians occupied several neighboring places, from which they
constantly sent forth parties, equally strong and enter-
prising, by which our gendarms were frequently annoyed
and straightened. The winter season was approaching,
and the garrison, in order to obtain their own and the sup-
plies necessary for their horses, were compelled to seek it
from a great distance. The foragers were so frequently lost
that a convoy became necessary for their protection ; and
scarce a day passed that the French had not to fight for it
with their eager and active neighbors. The conflicts were
usually sharp and inspiriting. The Venetians had, among
other valiant captains who gave our Frenchmen disquiet,
a certain Giovanni Paolo Manfrone. He "was so bold as
to make his incursions up to the very gates of Verona.
He did this so frequently, and with so much audacity, that
the pride of knighthood was wounded in the bosom of our
hero ; and he resolved, quietly, the very next time when the
foragers went a-field, to lead the escort himself, and to
practice some neat little stratagem by which to take Signor
Manfrone into his own kindly keeping. But, secretly as
Bayard designed this civility, it was not possible for him to
keep it wholly from his own household, and there was
treachery in his councils. It appears that Captain Man-

CAPTAIN MANFRONE. 183

frone was well served in Verona. He had a spy in his
pay who was also in the pay of Bayard, and who
dwelt, while in Verona, in the family of the latter. This
scoundrel went between the parties, and, inclining more
to the Venetian than the Frenchman, contrived to convev

J

to the former the most valuable information. He apprised
Manfrone of Bayard's intention on this occasion, and the
former prepared for him. The route being also known
which the foragers were to pursue, it was easy to do so.
He resolved, therefore, that whenever Bayard went forth
his own force should be sufficiently strong to make the
knight's defeat certain.

Bayard, meanwhile, planned his little stratagem, never
suspecting the pleasant preparations which his enemy,
under the directions of his own spy, was, in turn, making
for him. It was on a pleasant Thursday morning, says
our minute biographer, when Captain Pierrepont, one of
Bayard's lieutenants, with some thirty or forty gens d'arms,
was sent forth with the foragers. Pierrepont was a sensi-
ble and spirited soldier, and a cautious one ; but he had
every confidence in the skill and policy of his superior.
Quitting the main road, this troop sallied forth into the
country, seeking the victualling-houses and all those places
in which their bargains for provisions were to be made.
Meanwhile, Bayard, taking with him an hundred genclarms
more, made his way, as secretly as possible, to a little vil-
lage on the high road, called San Martino, some s'ix miles
from Verona. Here, believing himself equally unsuspect-
ed and undiscovered, he sent forth his scouts, who were
not long absent before they returned, reporting the ap-
proach of the enemy, some five hundred horse, who were
moving straight on the route which the foragers had taken.
Pleased with these tidings, our chevalier at once set his
men in motion, and hurried away to the meeting with the
strangers.

Captain Manfrone was not less pleased than our hero.

184 BAYARD OVERTHROWN.

His spy had duly apprised him of every step which was
to be taken ; and the Venetian had accordingly set an
ambush along the road that Bayard must pursue, con-
sisting of an overwhelming force of five or six hundred
pikemen and arquebusiers. These were all infantry, and,
lying close behind the walls of a deserted palace which
lay convenient, he counselled them not to come forth till
they beheld him in flight and the French pursuing. He
was at particular pains in showing them his plans. His
flight was a pretext only, by which to draw the gens d'arms
into the folds of the ambuscade. All happened as he in-
tended. Bayard, after a ride of a mile or two, caught
sight of the mounted men of Signer Manfrone. With the
old cry of " France and Empire !" he set upon them with
his wonted impetuosity ; and, after some reasonable show
of resistance, quite enough to excite their enemies and
disarm suspicion, the Venetians took to their heels, on the
road leading straight into the jaws of the ambush. Having
passed a small distance beyond it, they wheeled boldly upon
their pursuers, and, with cries of " San Marco," renewed
the fight with equal spirit and confidence. Then it was
that Bayard found that he had been betraye'd. The infantry
quitted their place of concealment with loud outcries, and
the arquebusiers, pouring in their shot at the same moment,
they rushed upon the French, who found themselves taken
in flank and front, and on all sides. At the first fire the
horse of Bayard was mortally wounded, and fell, fasten-
ing his rider by one of his legs to the ground. In this
situation he was surrounded ; and, though his men made
a desperate onset in his favor, and one of his followers — a
faithful fellow named Grandmont — extricating him from his
horse, and stood gallantly to the encounter at his side, yet,
girdled by a small but determined body of their foes, the
two fought vainly, and were made prisoners. But ere the
captors could disarm them, Captain Pierrepont made his
appearance, having left the foraging party. He darted

RESCUED AND RESUMES THE FIGHT. J 85

at once to the rescue. It was a seasonable succor. At
their approach, Bayard suddenly struck down the men by
whom he was guarded, and, with Grandmont, renewed the
fight with desperate ferocity. The rescue forced the cap-
tors to relinquish their prey for the moment, and to retire
from the melee in order that the arquebusiers should re-
sume their fire without endangering their own people.
Bayard and Grandmont were then supplied with fresh
horses, and the former renewed the engagement at the
head of his gendarms. These still struggled at great dis-
advantage. The Venetians had environed them precisely
as, on a previous occasion, Bayard had laid his snare for
Messire Lucio Malvezzo ; but our knight had a more
happy genius for extricating himself from his meshes than
had that smart young cavalier. Assailed from all sides,
with a force of more than four to one against them, and
with the arquebusiers sending their shot whenever the
field would so open as to suffer them to distinguish be-
tween friend and foe, the French had fearful odds with
which to contend. But nothing could impair the coolness
of Bayard. He saw all his difficulties at a glance, arid re-
marked to Pierrepont, — " We must gain the high road,
captain, or we are lost. If we can do that, we shall make off
in spite of them, and without much loss." Pierrepont con-
curred in this opinion, and, to this object, their efforts were
directed. Their losses, so far, had been inconsiderable ; their
horses having chiefly suffered by the bullets of the musketry.
Such had not been the case with the Venetians, who had
paid severely for the predicament into which they had
brought their enemies. They had lost forty or fifty of the
infantry, hewn down by the keen swords of the gendarms,
whose tempered armor had saved them comparatively un-
scathed. Hard was the fight that followed, on the part of
the French, to regain the road — on that of the Venetians to
embarrass and prevent them. But, driven forward as a
wedge, clinging close to the Venetian cavalry, and thus

Q*

186 PROTRACTED CONFLICT.

baffling the assaults of the arquebusiers and foot, the high-
bred chivalry of France at length succeeded in breaking
through all impediments. The light-horse of the Venetians
were scattered from the path. The high road was gain-
ed after a stem and terrible struggle. It was then that the
retreat begun — an affair scarcely less arduous than their
late extrication. To fly pell-mell would be to lose every
thing. Their hope lay in keeping close and compact, and
in moving off with a deliberation equal to their firmness.
To raw soldiers, this would have been impossible, after
such a conflict. To the veterans of Bayard it was much
more easy than flight. " Sauve qui peut" was never the
cry in his battalions ; and his men had learned, among
their first lessons, to retreat as the lion does, with his face
to the foe. A wound in the back was a death to reputa-
tion. Thus, then, the retreat was conducted — slowly, firm-
ly, in a compact body, which, at every two hundred paces
wheeled about and gave battle to the pursuers. But they
were not suffered to escape thus. The worst was not over.
The ambuscade was not passed. They had freed them-
selves from the actual incumbrance and physical weight of
the Venetian foot and horse together. They could baffle
and beat the latter when they pressed too closely upon
them ; but the accursed arquebusiers still lay upon their
wings, and still were the shot poured into their retreating
ranks. Bayard, who ever hated this terrible implement,
which he looked upon as fatal to chivalry, was destined
twice, on this occasion, to suffer from its missiles. A second
time was his horse shot under him. Finding him about to
fall, he leaped from the saddle at the moment when the
Venetians were making another terrible charge upon his
ranks. Fighting, sword in hand, he was again surrounded.
He achieved miracles with his sword, but must a second
time have become a prisoner, but for a gallant charge of
Du Fay, his standard-bearer, who, at the head of his arch-
ers, put in at a most fortunate time and succeeded in rescu-

THE FRENCH ESCAPE. 187

ing him. The assailants had set their hearts upon this
one noble victim, seemingly indifferent to any other
prize. They gnashed their teeth vainly at the prey thus
plucked a second time from their grasp. Again did our
hero find a horse, and, heading his men for a new assault
upon their pursuers, drove them back, and was per-
mitted to resume the retreat without farther interruption.
The peril to the French was over for the day. They had
passed through a terrible conflict, and against the most fear-
ful odds. Nothing but the most determined valor, the most
accomplished skill and training, and an exquisite esprit du
corps, which is almost always the secret of success in battle,
could have saved them from utter destruction by their foes.
The battle ceased only with the night. They had passed
without the range of the arquebusiers and the ambuscade.
Assured of this, Bayard commanded that no farther at-
tacks should be made. Enough, he said, that they should
retire without loss of honor, as they did. They reached
San Martino, whence they had set forth in the morning.
Their first halt was at a little bridge which was furnished
with barriers. To this point had they been pursued by the
force under Manfrone. Here he saw, with mortification,
that he could do them no more hurt; and, sounding the re-
treat, he returned toward San Bonifacio, his infantry pre-
ceding him. They were all very weary of their day's work,
and not quite satisfied with the issue. Their preparations
had contemplated greater results. They had looked to
destroy, or at least to have taken captive, all the little com-
mand of our hero. Instead of that, they had suffered his
escape from an ambush which ought to have held thrice
his numbers as securely as the complex netting of the
mammoth spider secures the fly in spite of all its feeble
struggles. Besides, they had been roughly handled, and
the chief object of the snare had broken through it with-
out loss of wing or spirit. The five hours which had been
spent in fighting had exhausted the Venetians. Their

188 FRESH ADVENTURES.

foot-soldiers resolved to tarry in a village but four or five
miles from San Bonifacio. Manfrone, who was a- prudent
captain, counselled them against doing so ; but they never
dreamed that they had any thing to fear from the troop
they had just driven before them. Their captain kept on
his way to San Bonifacio, leaving them where they chose
to stay.

Meanwhile, Bayard and his troop recovered their confi-
dence in a survey of the events of the day, and in the con-
solations of a good supper. When they reflected upon the
smallness of their losses, and the large number they had
slain of the enemy — when they considered the perils of the
ambush in which their eager valor and the treachery of
their spy had involved them, and then of the admirable re-
treat which they had effected — they felt nothing ashamed
of what had taken place. They had little to regret, and
much which might justify their exultation. Meantime, one
of their spies made his appearance, coming direct from
San Bonifacio. Bayard had him up instantly for exam-
ination. When asked wThat was doing in the Venetian
camp, he answrered that a large body of troops were in
San Bonifacio, the talk with whom was, that they should
soon have possession of Verona, and that they had much
good intelligence from that town. The spy added, farther,
that, just as he was about to depart, Captain Manfrone made
his appearance, terribly chafed and heated, who said he
had "fought with devils from hell, rather than men." " On
my way hither," concluded this emissary, " some four or
five miles back, I passed through a village full of their foot,
who are heartily worn out, and are lodging there to-night."
"On my life!" exclaimed Bayard, "they are the infantry
we fought with to-day. They have not chosen to go so far
as San Bonifacio ! Well ! if you say, gentlemen, they are
ours ! The moon shines brightly. Let us give our horses
a fresh feed, and, in two or three hours, stir up these foot-
meri with the points of our lances."

SUKI'IUSE OF THE VENETIANS. 189

Now this is the genuine spirit of the partisan, who, when
he has clone a good day's work, does not, for that reason,
refuse to do a good night's work also. The elasticity of a
spirit, to whom the opportunity of adventure never comes
amiss, is one of the chief requisites of a cavalry officer.
Bayard's suggestion found no obstacle among his followers.
They yielded to the scheme with delight. Their horses
were provided with food ; and, with a strong watch set,
commanded to arouse them at a certain hour, the troopers
addressed themselves to sleep. Bayard was one of those
who, on such occasions, and when meditating any enter-
prise, slept but little. He was up and awake long before
the rest, and had them roused about three hours past mid-
night. There was no noise — no unnecessary flourish of
trumpets. The villagers were not allowed to suspect the
departure of their guests. Soon, the troop was in motion,
and, as if shod with felt, were stealing off to the harborage
of their drowsy enemies. They reached, in little time, the
village where the Venetian infantry were reported to have
taken up their quarters. They found the tidings of the spy
correct. There they lay, like swine, without any watch
set, and sleeping, totally unconscious of an enemy. The
cry of "France and Empire!" — "Kill! kill!" — roused
them to a fearful consciousness. At this midnight chaunt,
which our old biographer calls a "joyous one," the sleepers
aroused themselves, only to rush upon the lances of the
French. Many were slain as they issued from their beds ;
but the captain of the Venetians contrived to rally a force
of two or three hundred within the market-place, and here
offered resistance. * But, half awake only, and paralyzed by
the sudden outcry, assailed by an enemy on several quar-
ters, the conflict was soon finished. The massacre which
followed was a fearful one. The gendarms seldom spared
the musqueteers, whom they equally feared and hated.
Besides, the weapons fought with — the sword and spear,
making the conflict usually one of hand-to-hand — rendered

190 BLOODY CONFLICT.

it necessary that, where one would not submit, he must be
slain. The captain of the Venetians and two other gentle-
men were made prisoners. The great body of the soldiers
perished in the fury and desperate havoc of that midnight
charge. Bayard returned to Verona, in every sense of the
word, a conqueror.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE excellent captain, Joseph Paul di Manfrone, burned
like a true knight of chivalry to avenge his disappoint-
ment, which had so nearly been a defeat. He was the
more goaded to this desire, as, independently of his dis-
appointment, he was severely censured by the Provveditore
of the Seignory for having left his unlucky foot-soldiers be-
hind him at the village where Bayard surprised them. It
is true, he vindicated himself, in this respect, against these
reproaches, by showing that he strove in vain to bring the
wearied wretches to a sense of their danger; but the re-
proach and the disappointment, rankling together in his
mind, prompted him to brood over some new schemes, by
which to extract the desired atonement from our more for-
tunate chevalier. Having reason to confide in the spy by
whom he had been already apprised so truly of the move-
ments of Bayard, and who continually went between the

192 NEW SCHEMES OF MANFRONE.

parties, he gave him his instructions, after allowing a little
time to elapse after the recent affair. "You are," said he,
" on your return to Verona, to assure Captain Bayard that
the Seignory of Venice hath written here to the Provvedi-
tore, that Captain Manfrone must be despatched to Leg-
nano for its better defence ; that the captain now there
is to be withdrawn, and sent, with a number of galleys, to
the Levant; that, to your certain knowledge, Manfrone
will set forth to-morrow, at the break of day, with but
three hundred horse and no infantry. Now," continued
the wily Venetian, "it is very certain that his spirit is so
elated at what hath passed between us already, that he
will not suffer me to travel, after what you shall have told
him, without making a second attempt upon me. This, if
he does, he will scarcely happen to escape so \vell as he
did formerly, as I shall take with me two hundred horse and
as many thousand foot. The latter I shall place in ambush
at Isola della Scala, where, if he comes, he shall find good
preparation made for him. Do your commission well and
faithfully, and you shall have an hundred golden ducats."

The worthy spy, whose name was Vincentina, being
quite satisfied with such liberality, promptly undertook to
execute the trust confided to him. The secretary of Bay-
ard does not seem to have appreciated — certainly, he did
not relish — the vocation of the spy. " Spies," he remarks,
" as the whole world should know, are creatures of avarice
alone. If one, therefore, out of six of them escape, surely
he hath reason to thank God for his mercies, — seeing that
there is but one remedy for the ailing they are cursed
with, and that must be the halter." We shall not gain-
say this charitable opinion. From Captain Manfrone to
Captain Bayard, the flexible Vincentina made his way.
Supposed to be devoted wholly to the interests of our cheva-
lier, the servants and soldiers readily made way for him.
He was brought to Bayard's presence just as the latter
was finishing his supper. He was received kindly and

THE SHIP. 193

with the affable welcome so natural, to our knight.
" What news," said he. " You are not here without some
tidings."

" Good tidings, God be thanked, sir," answered the spy ;
so, taking him apart from all ears but his own, Bayard
was circumstantially furnished with all the details of his
budget precisely as he had received it from the subtle
Captain Manfrone. The judicious Vincentina so garnish-
ed his narrative with other matter, which he thought would
be acceptable to our knight, that never hearer was more
delighted with his tidings. Ordering an excellent supper
and the best of wines for this worthy intelligencer, Bayard
proceeded to call his favorite captains into consultation.
There was Captain Pierrepont, and La Varenne, and
the Bastard Du Fay, and a certain Burgundian captain,
whom our knight that evening had at supper — a gracious
person it would seem, from his name, which was the Lord
de Sucre. These heard the intelligence with pleasure, and
all agreed to be present at the proposed farewell confer-
ence with the excellent Captain Manfrone, as he was about
to leave them for Legnano. It required but few words to
persuade them to be in readiness before the break of day,
each with two hundred gendarms. The Lord of Conti
also joined, with pleasure, in the enterprise. All things
were working quite smoothly to the end which Captain
Manfrone and his emissary desired ; and, but for the Bur-
gundian captain with the sugary name, the issue might
have amply atoned for the previous disappointments and
mortification of the Venetian captain. But it so happened
that when the spy departed it became necessary for the
Lord de Sucre to depart also. His lodgings were at
some distance, and it required that he should leave his
companions early to be seasonably prepared for the gallop
at daybreak. The event turned out most providentially.
It was on his return that the Burgundian beheld the spy

suddenly emerging from the residence of a Veronese gen-

R

194 TREACHERY.

tleraan, one Messire Battista Voltiggio, who was known
to be well affected to the Venetian interests, and very hos-
tile to those of the emperor. " San Marco was written in
his heart," says the " Loyal Servant." The Burgundian
knew the spy, having noted him while at supper; and spies
are natural objects of suspicion. The times were such as
required prompt action when there was reason to doubt
the faith of one's follower, and our Lord of Sucre was one
of those gentle knights with whom a word and a blow are
close and kindred associates. Addressing the spy sternly,
and finding him change coloi*, he at once took the fellow
by the throat, and, thus encumbered, returned to the place
where he had taken supper. Bayard was just about
getting into bed, hoping to snatch a little sleep before the
time for moving, when his servants gave re admission to his
guest. The spy was given into safe keeping, while the
Burgundian took his seat in the chamber of our knight,
who, in his night-dress, got up to receive him. The two
sat over the fire while the visitor told his story. The cir-
cumstances were quite enough to awaken his suspicions.
The temper of the Veronese gentleman whose house the
spy was seen to leave, was one of well-known sympathy
for the Venetian cause ; and the conduct of the spy when
arrested, betrayed his treachery. As Captain Sucre said,
" When I surprised him he was marvellously confounded."
The fellow was sent for instantly, and subjected to a
close examination. Thoroughly confused and terrified by
his predicament, he told half a dozen stories in accounting
for his visit to the house of Battista Voltiggio. At first he
stated that his visit was to see a relation, but this tale
he did not long rely upon. He contradicted himself at
every sentence ; and, as they could not bring his tongue to
proper subordination, it was necessary to seek the truth
from other members. A pair of thumbscrews were sent
for, and these being put upon him, Bayard thus addressed
him — " Declare the truth now, Vincentina, without any re-

THE SPY'S CONFESSIONS. 195

serve or concealment, and, on the faith of a gentleman, no
harm shall befall you. No matter what you may reveal —
even if you shall have plotted my death — only unfold the
truth and I promise you safety. If, on the other hand, I
find you in a lie, you shall swing from the battlements by
break of day to-morrow."

The counsel thus given was conclusive. The excellent
spy, thus idly hoping to serve two masters, no longer think-
ing of the hundred golden ducats of the one captain, with
the iron screws of the other upon his fingers, — finding his
secret detected, and his neck in danger — made a clean
breast of it, and implored for mercy. He showed the
exquisite little scheme of Captain Manfrone — told of the
ambush of two thousand men at Isola della Seal a — and
confessed that his visit to the house of Messire Battista
Voltiggio was to engage him in another nice little arrange-
ment, by which one of the gates of the town was to be
hospitably thrown open the very same night to the Prov-
veditore, Messire Andrea Gritti, a gentleman who promised
to bring with him guests enough to fill all the empty
chambers in Verona. The spy made other confessions,
which do not concern us. It is due, however, to Voltiggio,
for, to say, that the former acquitted him of having become a
party to the last mentioned-treachery — the prudent citizen
declaring that being in the allegiance of the emperor, he
was resolved to continue faithful to his authority.

The confessions of the spy proved as satisfactory as they
were ample. Bayard addressed him in terms of pity and
sorrow rather than anger. He had yielded his full faith to
the traitor. He was one of a temperament to whom it is
pleasant to confide. Every detection of faithlessness, ac-
cordingly, in one to whom he had trusted, was a source of
pain and disappointment, aside from the immediate con-
sequences which might follow upon the footsteps of the
treachery. " I have bestowed my money and my confi-
dence upon you unprofitably," he said to the miserable

196 COUNTERPLOT.

wretch before him, — " Within that breast of yours is hid-
den a base and wicked heart. Were I now to treat you
as you deserve, you should suffer death; but I spare you
as I promised. You shall be kept safely till it is proper
that you be dismissed. No evil shall befall you in my
hands. But beware, when once you have parted from my
sight, how you appear before me again. The moment that
you do so you shall surely die."

Thus exhorted, the spy was taken out of sight, but held in
close keeping for the present. His discharge could not be
suffered until the interview with Captain Manfrone was
over. For this our chevalier began his consultations with
the Burgundian instantly. But little time was left them
for their preparations. As for avoiding the meeting, and
letting the excellent Venetian captain retire to Legnano
without any proper military attentions, that, of course, was
never thought of by our preux chevalier. " And now, my
friend," said he to the Lord of Sucre, " we must match
craft with craft, in the case of this Captain Manfrone. If
we can accomplish this meeting after the plan which I
contemplate we shall perform an exploit as glorious as
any that hath taken place these hundred years." Captain
Sucre was all attention, and professed his readiness to do
as was required of him.

" Go then," said Bayard, "to the Prince of Anhalt, com-
mend me to his grace ; and, after laying the whole affair
before him, entreat him, on my part, to let me have two
thousand of his lansquenets before the dawn. We will
take them along with us, bestow them in secrecy upon the
route, and if, by the time the affair is over, you do not say
you have seen wonders, lay all the blame of the failure
upon me."

The Burgundian proceeded to rouse the Piince of Anhalt,
which he did without scruple. He conveyed the message
of Bayard, and obtained, as our knight well knew that
he would, a ready consent to all he asked. Bayard had

BAYARDS AMBUSH.

completely won the affections of this brave German, as,
indeed, he was apt to do in the case of all his associates.
It must have been a strange and impossible thing that
he would have refused to such a solicitor. The prepara-
tions were all well in progress before the Lord of Sucre
returned to his superior. With the dawn of day the lans-
quenets and men-at-arms were in readiness, and the gates
silently unclosed, opening the way for them to Isola della
Scala.

" And now," said Bayard to the Burgundian, " do you,
with the lansquenets, lie in wait at Servode."

This was a little village but two miles from the place of
Manfrone's ambush.

" Give yourself no concern about any thing," continued
Bayard, " for I will contrive to bring your enemy within
your jaws. Only do your duty like gallant fellows, and
you will win your brightest honors to-day."

When they reached Servode, accordingly, Sucre and
his lansquenets went into ambush. Bayard then, having
properly disposed of them, set forward, accompanied by
the Lord of Conti and others, with their men-at-arms, pro-
ceeding toward Isola della Scala, as if they had no suspi-
cions of the place.

This town commanded a vast extent of plain, over which
the unobstructed vision could take in objects at a consider-
able distance on every side. Some light-horse were sent
forward to reconnoitre, and an advance of archers under
the conduct of the standard-bearer, Du Fay, went after
them to skirmish. Bayard proceeded leisurely on the
same trail, at the head of the cavalry, which, in those days,
was called the battle. It was not long before the Vene-
tians became visible. Their foot was seen to sally out from
Delia Scala, accompanied by a troop of horse. Bayard,
then, to impress his enemy with the notion that he was
dismayed, bade his trumpets sound the recall of his advance.
Hearing this, Du Fay retired agreeably to his instructions.

n*

198 THE BATTLE.

He kept his men closely together, and seeming to make for
Verona, yet contrived to incline for the village of Servode,
where the lansquenets were in ambush. An archer sped
forward to intimate to Sucre to hold himself in readiness.
All this seems very simple, rehearsed briefly without detail;
but all the performances of the party were distinguished by
great good conduct and much wariness.

Meanwhile, the Tiorse of the Seignory, flanked by their
troop of infantry, made quick and frequent charges upon
the French, with such clamor, halloo and clatter, that thun-
der could scarcely have been heard above it. They were
already in high spirits with the conviction that the French
could not well escape them. The latter did not fly, but,
retiring slowly, continued to skirmish coolly and discreetly,
gradually drawing on the Venetians, until, within a bow-
shot of Servode, they all at once, to the great consternation
of the latter, discovered the lansquenets, who were moving
out from their hiding-places in admirable order, precisely
as if the enemy had been expected. Then it was that the
good knight made his trumpets sound the charge, while he
cried aloud — "Gentlemen, it is now that you must fall upon
them!" He had timed all things to a niceiy, and the fray
commenced with superior terrors. No longer curbing in their
steeds, and their own brave spirits, the gens d'arms darted into
the faces of their foes, falling upon the Venetians with a fury
proportioned to the patience with which they had hitherto
forborne. The latter proved themselves good soldiers, which
men are not apt to do always, when coming to ensnare they
are themselves caught. Their cavalry were at no time
able to stand the charge of the men-at-arms of the French;
and their foot had been too far beguiled from their place
of refuge to render it possible to fly in safety. The only
alternative was flght; and to this they addressed them-
selves right valiantly. But the cavalry of Captain Manfrone
soon sunk under the superior force and dexterity, strength and
spirit of the gens d'arms ; and, charged fiercely on all sides by

FATE OF THE SPY. 109

the lansquenets, the foot were cut to pieces. Caught in
the disorder occasioned by pursuit, they were taken at van-
tage by fresh men, in greater numbers than their own, who
were seldom known to spare. The Germans took no pris-
oners unless such as were able to pay ransom. It was in
vain that Captain Manfrone sought, by desperate valor, to
retrieve his misfortunes. The tide of battle was against him,
not to be withstood ; and it was only when all hope was lost
of retrieving the day — when it was sheer desperation to
linger — that he wheeled about, and turned his horse's head
toward San Bonifacio — a long and dreary ride, particularly
in his circumstances. The pursuit was not severely pressed.
There was no policy to waste time and incur unnecessary
peril, when the clay was already won, and the prisoners were
numerous. Bayard ordered the trumpets to sound the
recall, when each trooper began to look to the captive of
his bow and spear. The gain was great in men, horses
and other booty. The loss of the Venetians was very
severe. Twenty-five horse and two thousand foot are
computed to have been slain. Sixty of the cavalry were
made prisoners and taken to Verona. There arrived, Bay-
ard ordered the spy, Vincentina, to be brought before him.

" G-o," he said, "you are free ! Say to Captain Man-
frone that Captain Bayard will always be ready to meet
with him, and trusts to satisfy him yet, that he is not the
only Captain who can devise subtly against his enemy."

The fate of this miserable creature, thus sent back to the
friends whom he had so unfortunately and fatally served,
was such as those persons are apt always to incur who hope
to play a double game with parties engaged in contests of life
and death. Dismissed from Verona, the spy had no refuge
but San Bonifacio, where, no sooner had he reappeared,
than the furious Manfrone set upon him, and, refusing to
listen to his story and his prayers, had him strangled
instantly and hung. No excuse that he could offer could
possibly restore to the infuriate Venetian the self-esteem

200 BAYARD'S MAGNANIMITY.

and the gallant troop which the wretched creature had
most unwittingly caused him to lose.

Wanting in the smaller details which impart the pic-
turesque to such narratives, and in which individuals figure
always in the foreground with an interest in our minds ac-
quired at the expense of the masses, there is necessarily a
uniformity in the events, which prevents us from duly ap-
preciating the genius of a commander, who, in matters
which we do not see, and by efficient orders at a moment
when we do not hear, varies, in considerable degree, per-
haps, the character of the action. It has been remarked
of Bayard, in regard to these successful passages at arms,
that, though the events here resemble each other, there are
nevertheless some obvious differences between his proceed-
ings and those of his opponents, even where they contemplate
the same end and the same means, which force upon us the
conviction of his superiority, as well in mind as in spirit.
Thus, it is shown, that, in the first of the two encounters
with Manfrone, the latter comes to the assault with Jive hun-
dred men, while his ambuscade consists of six hundred,
Bayard having in all but an hundred and forty. The latter
thus boldly comes to an encounter with a foe whose number,
even as it is known to him, was nearly four times that of his
own. In the second affair, when told that Manfrone is about
to go forth with three hundred men, he orders two hundred
to put themselves in readiness. Apprised subsequently of
the contemplated treachery, and told of the number of foot
placed by the Venetian in ambuscade, he contents himself
with bringing the exact number into the field against them.
There is a real grandeur of soul in this forbearance, such as
it was the province of chivalry in its palmy days to inspire.
The remarkable fact, in the case of Bayard, was that he
had so completely survived that era. Still, the examples of
those around him never prompted in him a departure from
those laws, which he seems to have imbibed from the bosom
of his mother — which he heard in all the lessons of his fire-

HIS FAITH IN GOD AND HIS PEOPLE. 201

side, and which his whole life continued to illustrate and
exemplify, to the last moment of breath and action. His
faith was always, after God, in his own and the valor of
his followers, and not in any advantages of weapons or
numbers.

CHAPTER XIX.

THUS, in a predatory guerilla warfare, the season for
active operations was consumed. The approach of winter,
however, did not wholly prevent the incursions of the rival
forces. The Venetians, still holding Legnano with a nu-
merous garrison, were not idle, and the foragers and scout-
ing parties from Verona were still kept employed in cir-
cumventing the foe, or baffling and escaping him when he
showed himself too strong. The opening of the year 1510
gave new activity to the French, under stronger impulses
of action. The motives which had prompted the confeder-
acy, which was the fruit of the league at Cambray, having
been in great degree satisfied, the allies naturally fell off
from each other. The rapid successes of the French in
their Venetian invasion, in which they had done their work
without waiting for their more tardy confederates, had
alarmed the jealousy of their rivals ; and the Pope, sudden-
ly made to apprehend that Louis might acquire a prepon-
derating influence in the affairs of Italy, was ready to be
reconciled to the Venetians. The destruction of the repub-
lic of Venice would have given to the French monarch the
sovereignty of all the northern parts of that country, from the
gulf of Genoa to that of Venice. Induced by these consid-
erations, Julius released the republic from his spiritual cen-
sures, and, satisfied with the submission of its authorities,
received it once more into his favor. As this reconciliation
was an event which could not long be concealed from the
public knowledge, he lost no time in strengthening himself
against the resentment of France, by forming alliances with
its old confederates. Maximilian was won to his wishes by

STORMING OF LEGNANO. 203

a timely application of money; an insurrection was excited
in Genoa; and Ferdinand of Spain, having realized from
the league all that he desired or expected, was now not un-
willing to co-operate against the powerful associate of whom
he was always emulous and suspicious. The natural hos-
tility prevailing between the French and English nations
prompted, his Holiness to make an attempt on the monarch
of the latter people ; and, in order to persuade Henry VIII.
to a descent upon the coast of France, the Pope sent him
the consecrated rose dipped in chrism and perfumed with
musk. Fifteen thousand Swiss mercenaries were engaged
in this service ; and the Venetians, having greatly increased
their armies by foreign subsidies, not excluding the Turks
from participating against Christians under the banner of the
Cross, the Holy Father flattered himself that he was fully
prepared to encounter the French king at his own weapons.
Before, however, these developments were made, and
while the terms of the league of Cambray were ostensibly
kept by all the parties, the celebrated Gaston de Foix
assumed the command of the troops of France .in Italy.
He brought with him the ancient tutor and old friend of
our good knight, Captain Louis d'Ars. The two were
mutually delighted at the meeting. Bayard was a favorite
and friend of Gaston de Foix, whose own brilliant genius
and ardent youth made him naturally desirous of the affec-
tions of a knight wTho, like Bayard, was a model of such
perfect chivalry. The reinforcement of troops enabled the
French to lay siege to that town of Legnano, from the in-
cursions of whose warriors they had suffered so long. The
place was taken after a brave defence, and the garrison,
according to the terrible custom of the time, were ruth-
lessly put to the sword. These cruel massacres — supposed,
in our days, to be only tolerated in the event of storm,
occasioned by a wanton and hopeless defence, and not to
be justified or approved under any circumstances — were
not confined to the actual operations of the war. A hor-

GROTTO OF LONGARA.

rible occurrence, about this period and in this region, took
place near a great village called Longara, by which the
terrible temper of the age and of the conflicting parties may
well be illustrated. It appears that the people of this vil-
lage, to the number of two thousand of all sexes ; fearing
the proximity of the contending troops, had taken refuge
in an extensive cave at the foot of the mountains. This
they had stored with abundance of provisions, and had pro-
vided themselves with a few guns and sufficient ammunition
for defence. The place was easily maintainable, since
the mouth or gorge of it was so narrow, that two persons
could not assail the entrance of it at the same moment.
It so happened that this place of retreat was discovered
by that class of banditti which hangs about the skirts
of an army, as the jackall haunts the footsteps of the lion,
seeking for the prey which bolder hands have struck.
These wretches, apprise-d of the spoil within the cavern,
made an effort to enter. The inmates mildly besought them
to depart. But they were not to be put off by entreaties ;
and the very gentleness of those who expostulated with
them served only to increase their audacity. Seeking to
penetrate the cave with violence, they were met by such a
resistance as slew two of their number, and drove the rest
away, seeking assistance from their comrades. These,
when they came, seeing at once how impracticable was the
attempt to enter by force, were yet unwilling to forego
their revenge and prey. Rendered ingenious by evil, they
conceived the horrible idea of suffocating the inmates of the
grotto. They closed the aperture with straw and fuel,
and, setting these on fire, filled the chamber with a smoke
so dense as to stifle all its inmates. Their ends were gained.
Those who first entered the cavern, found the unhappy vic-
tims lying, disposed singly, or in groups about the apartment,
seeming as if they slept, but all lifeless. One person only,
a lad fifteen years of age, came foith alive. He had crept
to the remotest part of the grotto, where he found a small

THE CROAT CHIEFTA1X. 205

cleft of the mountain, from which he drew the pure air
from without. This lad slated that, finding their danger,
the inmates would have issued from the cave, but that
the peasantry, with their triple-forked spears, assailed them
at the entrance, and drove them back to perish. This mon-
strous crime, thus consummated in cold blood, without any
of the excitements of war, or provocation of battle, produced
a terrible sensation. Bayard was the first upon the spot
after the event was known, and devoted himself to the dis-
covery of the criminals. The task was not so easy among
those upon whose silence alone depended their safety. But
two wretches were convicted, and these were hung at the
entrance of the cavern where the crime had taken place.
Bayard himself superintended the execution. It was with
a feeling of relief that he left a place so distinguished by its
horrors.

From this neighborhood, the army moved upon Mon-
selice, which the Venetians had captured and fortified
with a garrison of twelve hundred men. While on the
road to this place, the skirmishers of the army were en-
gaged by a body of Croats, in the Venetian service, who
were either slain or captured. Among the latter, the Lord
Mercure recognized in the captain his own cousin-german,
by whom he had been dispossessed of his inheritance in
Alsatia, and who was the greatest enemy that he had in the
world. The captor reminded him of all the evil he had
suffered at his hands, and asked what should now prevent
him from avenging his injuries. The other answered that
he had been taken in open warfare, and should be admitted
to ransom. He concluded by proposing, for his freedom,
six thousand ducats and six Turkish horses. " Of that here-
after," said Lord Mercure; "but what should have been my
fate had I been your captive." " Then," answered the fierce
barbarian, "not all the gold in the world should have saved
you. I should have had you hewn in pieces without a par-
ley." " You have doomed yourself," was the stern an-

S

200 TAKING OF MONSELICE.

swer ; and at a word, in their own language, the Albanians
fell upon their prisoners with their cimeters. Not a man
was spared, and there was not a victim upon whose uncon-
scious carcass the keen weapon did not expend unnecessary
blows. Their heads hewn off, were stuck upon poles ; an-
other trophy of that barbarous warfare. Our chronicler tells
that the head-tire of these Croats resembled the hood of a
damsel, and mentions that the part which covered the skull
was lined with five or six pieces of paper, glued together,
upon which it was found that the edge of the sword could
make no more impression than upon a cap of steel. These
little anecdotes, unnecessary to our biography, are yet need-
ful to afford a fair notion of the manners, the modes, and the
conditions of warfare in that wild and savage period.

The siege of Monselice followed. The works had been
so much strengthened as to endure a battery of several
days, and might not then have been taken, but for the
courage and adventurous spirit of the defenders. They
made frequent sallies, skirmishing with the French within
a stone's throw of the fort. On one of these occasions the
Baron of Montfaucon, with Captain Molart's troop, went
unpreparedly to skirmish under the walls. A strong
body of the inmates issuing forth, gave them something
of a drubbing. The French fled ; — the Venetians some-
what too eagerly and too far pursued. The fugitives
meeting probably with succors, finally turned upon their
pursuers, and succeeded, so hot was the chase, in entering
the gates of the town along with the Venetians. They
opened the way to their comrades. The garrison, driven
from the walls, found shelter in the citadel. This was
set on fire, and the defenders who did not peiish in the
flames, met only a milder form of death on the pikes of
the besiegers. The place was garrisoned and repaired,
and the army was about to move once more upon Padua,
when news reached its captains of the defection of the
Pope, and of his designs upon the Duke of Ferraro, who

WAR WITH THE POPE. 207

had shown himself a more faithful ally of France than the
Holy Father.

This was intelligence of a serious character. Such was
the superstition of the time, that, while no one thought it at
all surprising or improper that the Pope, as a temporal
sovereign, should make war upon his neighbors, it was yet
held something of an assault upon the Church itself to
make war upon him. The French nobles and captains
entertained feelings of this sort, and listened to the com-
mands of the king with some reluctance. The king him-
self was not without his fears and scruples. It was re-
served for the Commons of France, showing themselves
superior to the aristocracy, to declare that the war should
be urged, and that if the Pope was not unwilling to use
the sword he should be made to feel it also. It was in
consequence of this decision of his people that Louis ven-
tured to direct his generals to sustain his faithful ally the
Duke of Ferrara, against his treacherous ally, the Pope.
The grand-m aster, Chaumont, led a considerable force to
Ferrara, having with him, among other famous captains,
the good knight Bayard. A body of four thousand mer-
cenaries— Swiss — formed a part of this force. They were
received with joy by the duke and duchess, who had
reason to apprehend equally from the energy and ambition
of the Pope. The latter, meanwhile, pretending that Fer-
rara was a part of his territorial right, declared his pur-
poseto regain it. Proceeding to the Bolognese in person,
the better to urge his preparations, he took -with him his
cardinals and chief persons, and established his court at
the town of Santo Felice, a large village lying between
Concordia and Mirandola. The Duke of Ferrara, mean-
while, and the French with him, had taken up their quar-
ters some twelve miles from Ferrara, between two branch-
es of the Po, in a place named L'Ospitalletto. Here a
bridge of boats was built, and well guarded, — the skir-
mishes between the opposing troops now becoming fre-

208 COUNTESS OP MIRANDOLA.

quent, and this bridge being essential to the ready trans-
mission of parties for reinforcement or assault. On reach-
ing Santo Felice, Julius sent to the Countess of Mirandola,
— a widow, who was a natural daughter of the Lord Jean
Jacques de Trivulzio, — to demand that she would sur-
render Mirandola to his keeping, as it was necessary to
him in his design upon Ferrara. But the brave lady, who
was quite as much devoted to the interests of the French
as was her father, answered this demand by saying that
the town was her own, which on no terms would she yield
to his Holiness. With God's aid, she was resolved to hold
it fast against all those who should seek to take it from
her. The Pope was an angry man at this answer, and not
satisfied to swear by St. Peter, he swore by St. Paul also,
that, whether by fair means or foul, Mirandola should be
his. The very next day he ordered the Duke of Urbino,
captain-general of his army, to lay siege to it. This event
had been anticipated, and Count Alexander de Trivulzio,
a cousin of the countess, who had joined with her in her
answer to the Pope's demand, promptly sent for aid to
the French captain at L'Ospitalletto. The request was im-
mediately complied with, and two cannoneers and an hun-
dred good soldiers were instantly sent forward under the
conduct of two young gentlemen, one from Dauphiny,
named Montchenu, a nephew of the Lord of Montoison,
the other, Chantemerle, a native of the county of Beausse,
and nephew of the Lord de la Lude. These seem to have
been under the training of our chevalier, for, at parting, he
gave them counsel in the following language, — such coun-
sel as he had heard from his superiors when first setting
forth upon adventures : —

" My sons, you are about to enter into the service of the
ladies. You must now approve yourselves gallant com-
rades, if you would win their favor. Their applause is
reputation. The town to which you go is a strong and
good one. If besieged, you should acquire renown in your

UAYARD SCHEMES TO TAKE THE POPE.

defence of it." He said much more by way, not only of
encouraging them, but in order that they might address
their eyes and aims to the very noblest objects of ambition.
He himself, with a small escort, accompanied them to Mi-
randola, where he left them to the entertainment of the
countess, of whom they had no reason to complain. In
three days after their arrival the siege was begun, the artil-
lery playing upon the walls with great vehemence. This,
however, produced but little misgivings within the town.
Bayard fixed his eyes upon this leaguer, having his own
objects. As he never grudged money to obtain informa-
tion, he never wanted spies and other emissaries of this
sort. He kept them busy in watching the progress and
doings of the Pope himself, quite as much as those of the
besiegers. His heart was set upon capturing his Holiness,
without any disparagement of the claims of St. Peter.
This purpose seems rather to conflict with what is said by
some of the historians* in regard to his supposed reluctance
to en£ag-e in this warfare. He had no such reverence for

O O

the head of the Church. It is difficult to conceive, if such re-
luctance really had been felt as has been asserted in his case,
that we should find him scheming, out of the exact line of his
duty, to make a personal assault upon the holy father him-
self. Yet so it was. When told by one of his spies of the
intention of Julius, who was still at Santo Felice, to set
forth in a day or two for the trenches before Mirandola, he
increased his watches upon that sacred person, and counsel-
led his spies to assure themselves, certainly, when he would
depart on this journey. This point ascertained, our devout
chevalier, sanspeur ct sans reproclie, laid his plans for taking
into his pious keeping the Pope of Rome and all his car-
dinals. He communicated his sheme to the Duke of Fer-
rara and the Lord of Montoisin. " Gentlemen," said he,
11 I am advised that the Pope will leave Santo Felice to-
morrow morning for Mirandola. These two places are six

* See the suggestion in the History of France, by Crowe, Vol. i., p. 147.

s*

210 THE AMBUSH.

good miles asunder. I have conceived a project which, if
successful, will be apt to be remembered for an hundred
years to come. A couple of miles from Santo Felice there
are two or three fine palaces which are now abandoned.
It appears to me that if I should go to-night and place my-
self in \vatch in one of these palaces, taking with me a
hundred gendarms, but attended by neither page nor groom,
I shall have an opportunity of laying hold on his Holiness
to-morrow. He will be accompanied, I am told, by his
cardinals, bishops and prothonotaries, and guarded only by
an hundred horse. If this be the case, I can not fail to
have him. The alarm can not reach his camp ere I have
made my escape, as it is fully ten miles from that place to
this. Even supposing me to be pursued, it will be easy
for us to guard against mishap, since you, my lord duke,
and you, rny Lord de Montoisin, have only to pass the bridge
in the morning, with the rest of the horse, and wait for me
four or five miles on the road."

The proposal met with the full approbation of the per-
sons he addressed, and nothing remained but to put in
practice the measures resolved upon. That night, after
having seen his horse well fed, and taken all pre-cautions,
Bayard set forth with an hundred gens d'arms, such as he
well knew would stand valiantly the shock of battle. He
was fortunate to encounter no person upon his route ; and
he proceeded, as arranged, to ensconce himself snugly, an
hour before day, in one of the fine palaces along the road
which Julius was to pursue. This prince was an early
riser, and was in his litter with the dawn. The prothonota-
ries, clerks and officers set forth in advance, in order to
prepare lodgings for his Holiness This was a precaution
which had not been anticipated, and which might, even
without the occurrence of any other event, have tended to
defeat the ambush of our knight. With the appearance of
these people under his walls, Bayard gave the signal, and
the men-at-arms darted forth upon their prey. These were

THE POPE'S NARROW ESCAPE. 211

conquered, captured, dispersed in an instant, some of them
rushing back with lamentable outcry to give the alarm.
But even this misadventure would not have availed for the
escape of the prey, had it not been for a more decided in-
terposition of Providence. At the very moment when the
Pope had ascended his litter, and before he had left Santo
Felice a stone's throw, there fell such a sudden and violent
storm of snow as to blind the party and drive them back.
The travellers could no longer behold each other. The Car-
dinal of Pavia, by whom the movements of Julius were very
much governed, then said to him — " Holy Father, it is im-
possible to go forward while this storm continues. There is
no necessity for it, and we should return without proceeding
farther." Little dreaming of the fortunate escape which
he made by this decision, the Pope assented to the advice.
The litter was wheeled about, and well was it for him that
his progress had been so little forward. Bayard, not find-
ing his prey among the fugitives he had dispersed, dash-
ed them aside ; unfortunately, without stopping to secure his
prisoners. Making his way at full speed, he urged the
chase almost to the entrance of Santo Felice. He was
furious at being bafHed in his scheme and defrauded of his
object ; and, such was his impetuosity, that a moment more
would have given him the prize he aimed at. Just as he
reached Santo Felice, the Pope heard the alarm and out-
cry. He was about to enter the gate of the castle. So
great was his terror, that he leapt from his litter without
assistance, and, with his own hands, helped to raise the
bridge which at length separated him from his audacious
pursuer. " This was wisely done," says the old biographer,
"for, had he only lingered while one should murmur a pater
noster, he had surely been snapped up."

The disappointment of our knight was very great, though,
certainly, there was nothing, either in respect to commis-
sion or omission, which should subject him to blame. The
plot was a good plot — a very excellent plot — and nobody

212 BAYARDS CHAGRIN.

could have calculated on such a fall of snow, just at the
precious moment, as had not fallen for a hundred years.
Bayard chafed in his disappointment beneath the walls of
the castle which had given shelter to his prey. It was not
a place of strength, and with a single piece of artillery it
might have been captured in half an hour. But his lancers
might have driven at the battlements until they wore away
with rust, without displacing a single stone. It became
necessary that he should see to his own safely and limit his
meditations upon the strength of Santo Felice. They were
but six miles from the Pope's camp at Mirandola, a strong
force from which, apprised of his whereabouts, might give
him a disgraceful discomfiture. With a few prisoners, all
men of God — bishops and such pacific sort of people — and
many baggage-mules, and, we may suppose much baggage,
the gendarms were put in motion for L'Ospitaletto. On
the way, they encountered the Duke of Ferrara and the
Lord de Montoisin, but they could not console our hero for
his disappointment. It did not satisfy him, the assurance
that no partisan was expected to regulate the snow-storms.
It was not his reputation but his ill-fortune that he
deplored. The Pope in his clutches, the war had been
finished at a stroke — so much ruin and devastation avoided,
so much blood spared, so many noble lives saved. The
prisoners were dismissed, on payment of a small ransom —
the mules having no preference for either service, conclud-
ed to remain with the French. Our old chronicler chuckles
at the great fright which our good chevalier gave to the
Holy Father. He sees him, crouching close in the castle
of Santo Felice all that day, shaking as if an ague fit were
on him ; nor would he again venture forth until his nephew,
the Duke d'Urbino, had come to him with an escort of
several hundred horse. Then it was that he appeared be-
fore Mirandola, where the siege was conducted under his
eye with the greatest perseverance. The snow-storms
which had begun to work their mischances with knight

CAPTURE OF MIRANDOLA. 213

Bayard, did not withhold their evil influences from the
noble lady who held the garrison. They prevailed to the
overthrow of her defences. For six days and nights the
snow, falling without intermission, covered the country to a
depth of six feet. A hard frost succeeding, paved the
ditches and moats around the town so as to make them
passable for the enemy. Two wide breaches had been
made by their artillery, and the situation of the Duke of
Ferrara and his French allies was such as to preclude them
from affording any relief. In this condition the countess
was forced to capitulate. The imperious Julius refus-
ing to enter through the gateway, marched through the
breaches, made by his cannon, into the place which he had
captured.

The effect of this success was to produce some alarm in
the camp of the Duke of Ferrara. His forces, being une-
qual to those of his opponent, gave him reason to fear that
he himself might be besieged in turn. He destroyed the
bridge which he had made, cutting off, as well as he might,
all the approaches ; and, retiring within the town, determ-
ined to maintain it to the last.

CHAPTER XX.

IT is due to the old associates of Bayard that we should
occasionally look aside from his particular fortunes, in or-
der that theirs should not be entirely forgotten ; and a dis-
tinguished man lives so much in the career and conduct of
his comrades, that these constitute a necessary study for the
better appreciation of his merits. He has helped to form
and mould their characters, and, in this manner, must meas-
urably develope his own. Besides, in a work like ours, it is
properly permitted that, in order to the attainment of a just
idea of the moral and social atmosphere in which the hero
strives, we must look at the progress of other and rival per-
sons under the same influences. We must see how far,
with the same means to operate with, and the same agen-
cies at work upon them, they approach, in their perform-
ances, those from which his distinction has been derived.
These motives will carry us back for awhile to the town of
Legnano, which we have seen yielded by the Venetians,
after a severe and protracted struggle, to their enemies.
The place, when taken, was strengthened in its defences
and well garrisoned, and was placed in the keeping of one
whom we have seen frequently fighting gallantly at the side
of our chevalier and under his direction. This was the gal-
lant Captain La Crote. La Crote was prudent as well as
brave ; he had properly learned the lessons of his master ;
and, being enjoined to keep Legnano safely, and to peril
nothing of his charge upon doubtful ventures, he was not
to be beguiled from his garrison by the frequent provoca-
tions of the Venetians, who, emboldened by his forbear-
ance, made their incursions up to his very gates. But

SIR GUYON DE CANTIERS. 215

La Crote, after awhile, fell grievously ill, so that his life
was despaired of, and the active control of the place was
temporarily confided to less prudent hands. Surrounded
by young people and volunteers, who were eager for ad-
venture and ambitious of renown, it was no easy matter to
restrain them from frequent rashness. There was one
young knight in particular, one Guy on de Cantiers, who
was passing valiant, but of far less conduct than courage.
This Sir Guyon had, among other spies in different quar-
ters, one in the Venetian town of Montagnana, a place about
twelve or fifteen miles distant from Legnano. This spy,
visiting his employer frequently, was liberal always in the
news he brought. According to his accounts there were
opportunities continually offering for snapping up bodies of
the Venetians, small and large, with the provveditore, Mes-
sire Andrea Gritti, at their head. One scheme, in particu-
lar, was greatly insisted on, by which, if Sir Guyon and his
companions would establish an ambush at a certain place
near the town of Montagnana, the provveditore, who fre-
quently came there with two or three hundred light-horse,
might be pounced upon and taken by a gallant company,
without danger of defeat or disappointment. The town,
it was shown by the same grateful oracle, might be captur-
ed afterward, on like easy conditions.

Sir Guyon was greatly inflamed with the idea of this ad-
venture, and dismissed the spy with the assurance that the
next visit of the provveditore to Montagnana would surely
find him in the designated place of harborage. Upon the
spy, however, it depended to say when the provveditore was
to be looked for. This emissary, in the pay of both parties,
disclosed his secret to the Venetians, by whom it was eager-
ly entertained. Messire Andrea Gritti accordingly prepar-
ed himself for our eager Frenchman, placing in ambush a
couple of hundred horse and a thousand foot, and taking
with himself, on his next visit to Montagnana, a large force
of horse and, foot to the number of two thousand more.

216 THE AMBUSH FOR SIR GUYON.

His ambush was instructed to suffer the advance of the
French, but to oppose their return. Meanwhile, our spy
returned to Sir Guyon, and reported progress. According
to his account, the provveditore had with him but a couple
of hundred horse. Sir Guyon, highly charmed with the
prospect before him, sought out a comrade named Malherbe,
and engaged him in the affair. But it was necessary to
gain permission from Captain La Crote for the incursion.
They gave him all the details, but he listened with misgiv-
ings. " Gentlemen," said he, " you know that my life and
honor are pledged to keep Legnano safely. Your adven-
ture is full of peril. Should it prove unfortunate, I were a
lost man — disgraced forever, and doomed to wear out the
rest of my days in neglect and melancholy. I cannot suffer
you to undertake this venture." But they would take no
denial. They knew their ground, they were sure of their
emissary, and, in the infirm health of La Crote, who was
still an invalid, they succeeded finally in wresting from him,
almost by force, the desired permission. Two hours after
midnight they left Legnano, under the conduct of the treach-
erous spy; Malherbe leading a small troop of gendarms, fifty
in number, while Sir Guyon conducted a larger body of
three hundred foot. " Certes," says the favorite chronicler,
"there quitted Legnano, on that day, the very flower of its
chivalry — the hardiest of its veterans, and the most prom-
ising of its youth." They passed the first ambuscade which
the provveditore had set near a little village, but were suffer-
ed to pass without any alarm or annoyance. When with-
in a short mile of Montagnana, their guide said to them
. . . . " Now, gentlemen, suffer me to go and see what is do-
ing in the town. Do you remain here — stand close, and
watch well and patiently till I can bring you tidings."
" Better," says the " Loyal Servant," in his indignation, " bet-
ter had they cut off his head than suffered his departure."
He proceeded instantly to the provveditore and informed
him that he had brought the fish into his net. " Unless it

THE COMBAT, 217

be your pleasure," said he, " not one can escape, for they
have already passed your ambuscade." The Venetian cap-
tain was instantly on horseback. His men, both horse and
foot, an overwhelming force, issued promptly from the town,
though stealthily ; an hundred men being sent forward to
skirmish, and to draw the Frenchmen more completely into
their folds. The latter rushed gayly to the encounter,
never dreaming of other customers. At the first charge
the Venetians retreated, and the French pushing on, soon
found themselves in the presence of a multitude. " We
are betrayed," said the bold Sir Guyon ; " but must not
be daunted ; we can still escape." The flight was conduct-
ed properly, and with skill and spirit. If the rashness of
youth had involved them in ruin, the young knights were
prepared to encounter it with the hardihood and defiance
of approved soldiers. The foot were sent forward, while
the slender troop of gendarms sustained the brunt of the
assault. This was urged fiercely ; but so well did the cav-
aliers ply their weapons, that the loss was inconsiderable
until they reached the village where the ambuscade had
been planted. Then it was that, at the trumpet's signal,
the Venetians sallied forth like a swarm of wolves, and
throwing themselves across the route to Legnano, the
French found themselves enclosed between two armies,
each of which was four times their own strength. No
quarter was asked or given. The cry of the Venetians was
to smite and slay, and in grim and desperate silence our
little troop of young adventurers stood foot to foot against
the foe, from whom they had nothing to expect but death.
"Never!" exclaims our ancient biographer, "never, since
God created heaven and earth, was there better fighting
for one day, according to the number of combatants en-
gaged. For four hours did the murderous conflict continue,
the French retreating, but still fighting; still falling, but still
unconquered. In this desperate struggle they had made their
way till within four miles from Legnano. Then it was that

T

218 STRATAGEM OF THE VENETIANS.

•

the provveditore, by mounting certain crossbow-men on
horses, succeeded in breaking the perfect and compact ar-
ray of the foot. Most of the gendarms were now in this
body, their horses having been killed under them. The un-
fortunate Sir Guyon, finding that all was lost, rushed like a
chafed lion into the ranks of the Venetian infantry, and, after
several wonderful instances of valor, killing five or six of the
enemy with his own hand, he paid the penalty of his indis-
cretion, and atoned in some degree for his lamentable error
by a glorious death. He was overpowered and slain, with
every man of his three hundred. Malherbe and five-and-
twenty of his comrades, were all that survived the carnage,
and these were taken prisoners.

The complete destruction of the party (not one having
escaped to convey the intelligence to the garrison at Leg-
nano) suggested to the provveditore a scheme for getting
possession of that town. Causing the French soldiers,
horse and foot, to be stripped of their clothes and armor,
he arrayed an equal number of his own people in their
habits. To these he delivered some hundred or hundred
and twenty others of his people, but in their Venetian cos-
tume. These were to be led along among them as prisoners.
His instructions to this party were, that they should go to
Legnano, and, when sufficiently near, should set up cries
of " France and Victory." The gates once thrown open,
as to their own people, they were to rush into the town, sure
of being followed by the whole force of Messire Andrea
Gritti, who was to conceal himself, with his squadrons,
within bow-shot of the walls.

The scheme was well conceived, and nothing was omitted
which could add to its plausibility. The French ensigns
were to float above their heads. The Venetian were to
be seen trailing in the dust beneath their feet. Even cer-
tain falcons, with which it appears that some of the young
French gallants had set forth on their fatal adventure, were
carefully preserved and conspicuously carried along with

BERNARD DE VILLARS. 219

them. The directions of the provveditore were earned out
probably with quite as much spirit as they well could be.
With clamors of victory, and every show of joy and exul-
tation, the seeming Frenchmen made their way to Leg-
nano, and approached within bow-shot, sounding trumpets
and clarions. It happened, however, fortunately for the
gamson, that the Lord of La Crote had with him one of
those shrewd, sagacious persons, who, with rare instincts,
perceive a deception at a glance. Such persons are to be
found in all armies where there are many veterans. In this
case, the sagacious individual was a lieutenant, one Ber-
nard de Villars, an old knight, whose life had been one of
continued military service. Ascending the tower of the
gateway as these exulting Frenchmen appeared in sight,
he was struck by the very excess of their rejoicing. This
led to a closer scrutiny; and he said to one near him, " De-
scend and cause the draw-bridge to be lowered and then
drawn up again. These are indeed the horses and accou-
trements of our people, but it does not seem to me that the
men ride after our fashion. Unless I am very much mis-
taken, these are none of ours. Ill luck may have befallen
our party. My heart misgives me. If these be our people,
they can wait. We shall find that out easily enough when
they draw nigh. If they be enemies, betake yourselves to
the barricade. I have here two pieces loaded, with which
I shall help you if necessary."

Meanwhile, the disguised Venetians dashed forward, sup-
posing the draw-bridge to have been lowered, and not con-
jecturing that it had been again drawn up. The man at
the bridge having called to them as they approached, with-
out receiving any answer, had retreated in safety to the
barricades ; and their true character becoming apparent to
our veteran, Bernard de Villars, he gave them, as they ap-
proached, a blast from his artillery, which stopped them
short in their career. Not succeeding by surprise, all farther
attempts upon the town were abandoned as hopeless, and the

220 LA BASTIA.

Venetians retired, satisfied with the spoil and glory which
they had won. This event had nearly been fatal to the noble
captain of the garrison, who bitterly reproached himself
with having yielded, against his better judgment, to the
solicitations of his inexperienced and unfortunate young
men. He had nearly died of grief under his own sense of
error and the extreme displeasure of his king, who was
appeased with difficulty. It is very certain that Bayard,
with all his eagerness for adventure, would never have al-
lowed himself to be persuaded by his captains against his
better judgment. To him, after this digression, let us again
return.

The Pope, after the taking of Mirandola, held a council
of war, to whom he submitted his views in regard to the
siege of Ferrara, which he was anxious to undertake with-
out loss of time. While all his counsellors concurred in the
propriety of reducing Ferrara, they necessarily differed as
to the proper modes of operation. Ferrara, very strong in
itself, was well provided with troops. Unless its supplies
could be arrested, it would cost many lives before it could
be taken. Having the means in his power for cutting off
the supplies by the Po, the Pope fancied he should deprive
them of all provisions from above the beleaguered city;
while, from below, the vigilance of the Venetians would be
equally certain to straighten them in that quarter. To this
a Venetian captain, named Giovanni Forte, answered that
even this would be inadequate to effect their object. He
showed them that the territory under the control of the
Duke of Ferrara was itself abundantly productive for the
necessities of the garrison, and that provisions could reach
him by Argento. " On the other side," said he, " there is
a tract of country called II Polesino di Sto Giorgio, which
is so rich, that, even if Ferrara derived nothing from any
other quarter, this would be amply able to furnish the town
for a year. To arrest these supplies, it is first necessary
that you should capture the place called La Bastia, about

BAYARD'S COUNSEL. 221

twenty-five miles from Ferrara. Were that in our power,
the fall of Ferrara would be very certain in the space of
two months."

His advice was taken, and the impatient Julius instantly
ordered to the attempt the Venetian by whom the suggestion
was made and a couple of experienced Spanish captains.
To these were assigned a force, consisting of two hundred
gens d'arms, five hundred light-horse, and five or six thou-
sand foot, the latter provided with six pieces of heavy artil-
lery. La Bastia was feebly garrisoned, and the officer in
command was terrified — as well he might be — at the pow-
erful force sent, against him. At the first sign of danger, he
despatched a trusty soldier to convey the tidings to Ferrara.
Bayard was the first to encounter this messenger, and to
ask his business. When told that La Bastia could not hold
out a day unless succored, he conducted him at once to the
duke. The fort, which was a strong one, had but twenty-
five soldiers in garrison — a force not to be spoken of in re-
gard to their availableness against such an army as that
which Julius had assigned for the siege. The tidings drove
the blood from the cheeks of the duke. "If I lose La
Bastia," said he, " I may as well abandon Ferrara. The
place is twenty-five miles oflf, and must be relieved before
to-moiTow. To gain the place, it is necessary, at this time,
that the troops should pursue a difficult road, so narrow
and intricate, that, for the space of half a mile, the men
must march singly, one by one. There is one pass in
which twenty men might hinder the progress of as many
thousand. Of this, however, I believe our enemies know
nothing."

Bayard, seeing the duke so much dismayed by the im-
pending necessity, which was certainly an extreme one,
presumed to interfere. " My lord," said he, " we may
leave a trifling matter to the hands of chance, but in an
affair so vital as this, we should strain every nerve to en-
counter the danger. Our enemies are besieging La Bastia.

rr,*

222 IT IS ADOPTED.

They deem themselves in perfect security, because, the
large army of the Pope being here, they fancy we dare
not quit Ferrara to raise the siege. Now, my lord,
I have thought of a thing which may be easily executed,
and unless fortune prove very adverse, must result in the
safety of La Bastia, and our own great honor. You have
in this town some four or five thousand foot, very brave
fellows, and admirably versed in all the arts of war. Let
us take two thousand of them, with the eight hundred
Swiss of Captain Zemberg, and pass them over night in
boats upon the water. We are still masters of the Po as
far as Argento. These forces will wait for us at the
passage of which you have spoken. If they arrive first
they will take Argento ; and the horse that are here will
travel all night by land. With good guides, we can reach,
La Bastia by break of day, and there join company with
our comrades. Our enemies will never suspect such an
enterprise. Before they shall have time to place them-
selves in array of battle, we will fall upon them with all
our might, and my heart assures me that we shall have
the victory." " Had one given the duke an hundred
thousand crowns," says our chronicler, " he could not have
been more delighted." " On my honor," he answered
with a smile, " to you, my Lord of Bayard, nothing seems
impossible. I think with you ; and if our friends here
concur in your suggestions, I doubt not that we shall be
able to deal with the enemy even as you propose. For
my part, I earnestly hope that they may concur with us."
And thus saying, with a courtly grace, this brave and
accomplished prince raised the cap from his head in
salutation.

The captains generally agreed in the wisdom of the
suggestion. The plan of Bayard was adopted, and the
preparations begun. The troops were put in readiness,
boats were procured without noise, and the infantry em-
barked at dusk of evening. The cavalry, accompanied

BAYARD PLANS THE BATTLE. 223

by the duke in person, set out as soon as night offered
adequate concealment. The weather was bad, and the
roads; but fortunately, the guides were good, and all
parties in excellent spirits. The calculations of Bayard
were verified by the results. Half an hour before day
the cavalry reached the pass, where the vessels with the
foot soon after joined them. It was broad daylight before
the whole were prepared for moving. Then sullenly came
the booming of the cannon, announcing the commencement
of the assault on the part of the besiegers. La Bastia was
not yet lost. The troops were within a mile of the enemy,
when Bayard thus addressed their captains : — "Gentlemen,
it has been often and well said that he who makes no
account of his enemy is a madman. We are now hard
upon ours, and they have no less than three to one against
us. If they knew of our enterprise, we should doubtless
have much trouble at their hands, for they have artillery
and we none. They tell me, moreover, that the troops
before La Bastia are the very flower of the Pope's army.
To do well, therefore, we must endeavor, if we can, to
take them unprepared. I am of opinion that the Bastard
Du Fay, my standard-bearer, who is well skilled in such
matters, should go, with fifteen or twenty horse, in the
direction by which the enemy came, and give them an
alarm. Captain Pierrepont shall accompany him at the
distance of a bow-shot with an hundred gendarms, to succor
him when he is repulsed. With these we will send Cap-
tain Zemberg with his eight hundred Swiss. You, my
lord," said he to the duke ; " My Lord of Montoisin ; the
gentlemen, my companions, and myself, will go straight to
the leaguer, where I will proceed first to raise the alarm.
If Du Fay shall have done that beforehand, and they all
crowd toward him, we enclose them between him and us.
If, on the other hand, we give the first alarm, Captain
Pierrepont, with his Swiss, shall do as much on their
side. By these means we shall so astound and bewilder

224 THE SURPRISE.

them that they will imagine us to be three times as numer-
ous as we are. Above all, let every one of our trumpets
sound on approach.

By this time, it must be remarked, the wonderful cour-
age, conduct, enterprise and long experience of our good
knight, had rendered him an authority wherever he was
known. Familiar with the great events of modern times,
he seems to have studied diligently the ancient. He was,
according to the chronicles, a very record of battles, not
merely the gross event, but the details ; and with these, all
the turning circumstances and the peculiar individual policy
by which the issue had been probably effected. Enough that,
in this instance, all who heard him deferred to his opinion.
His plan of operations was instantly agreed on, and the
two detachments, now within a mile of the leaguer, moved
each in the direction assigned it — the one under Du Fay
and Pierrepont, with the Swiss, taking the road which the
enemy had pursued ; the other proceeding directly to La
Bastia, which they approached within cannon-shot unper-
ceived. The alarm was raised by Du Fay, sharply and
vigorously, startling the Pope's army with astonishment, if
not dismay. Arming in hot haste, and mounting their horse,
they proceeded at once to the place of uproar. Their foot,
compactly marshalled were moved in close order in the
same direction. Du Fay was driven before their horse as
had been anticipated ; but Pierrepont came to the rescue,
encountered them fiercely with his gendarms, and beat
them back upon their infantry. These, marching in order
of battle, and to the number of five or six thousand, now
crossed weapons with the eight hundred Swiss foot-soldiers,
who came to the support of Pierrepont. The Swiss, sustained
by the gendarms, made good fight, but must have yielded
before the numerous body which was opposed to them, but
for the timely arrival of the duke, the lords of Montoisin,
Le Lude, Fontrailles, and the "Good Knight" Bayard.
These, with the horse and two thousand foot, operating

THE VICTORY. 225

upon the rear of the enemy, produced such a diversion as
relieved the command of Pierrepont from the immense
pressure which must have borne it down. Charging a
troop of three or four hundred horse which seemed dispos-
ed to rally, Bayard and Fontrailles overthrew them with a.
single rush. The fight lasted for an hour. The day re-
mained with the French. The slaughter was terrible ; as
how should it be otherwise — men fighting hand to hand,
and at a period when mutual recriminations had banished
mercy wholly from the bosom of war. More than four
thousand foot-soldiers perished of the Pope's army, sixty
horse were slain, and three hundred taken, together with
all the baggage and artillery. The French, loaded with
spoils, returned to their garrison in Ferrara, having taken
care to strengthen that of La Bastia against future sur-
prises. The event of the day was greatly to the increase
of Bayard's reputation. It had shown him fully equal to the
command of an army. Hitherto he had been content to
lead a squadron. He had conceived the whole scheme,
when all schemes seemed hopeless and his general was
desponding; and it was one equally simple in its details,
and sagacious in its correct appreciation of the views of the
enemy whom it was designed to overthrow. But it was
not because of the conception only, that he won the
applause of all. His conduct and spirit on the field, always
timely and always efficient, had contributed, in large de-
gree, to render his scheme successful. The Duke of Ferra-
ra, for himself and people, gave him public thanks. Nor
was the duchess, his fair bride, at all slow to recognize the
superior merit of one who was the pride of European chival-
ry. This lady was the daughter of Galeazzo Sforza, duke
of Milan, and worthy of her birth and station. She was not
only one of the most lovely, but one of the most accomplished
of the ladies of her time — even more remarkable by her
talents than her beauties, and quite as rare an instance of
learning as of talent among her sex. She spoke and wrote

226 THE DUCHESS OF FERRARA.

with equal ease and elegance in Greek, Latin, French and
Italian ; and was in every way well fitted to preside at
noble assemblies which brought together the grace and
loveliness, the wit and valor, of more than two of the lead-
ing states of Christendom. She did not strive vainly to
acknowledge the worth of those who brought triumph and
safety to her house and husband. Could we but procure a
picture, though faint, of those gorgeous assemblages of
chivalry at her court — the superb entertainments, the fetes
pittoresque — the thousand various divertissements which
followed upon the victory at La Bastia !* What should we
now give for such details, from the old chroniclers of the
doings of the court, as minutely given as those which they
render to us of the camp. But they were a dry, ascetic
race — stern and savage amid all their courtliness, who —
even in their loves, dreamed rather of making a mistress
known to their rivals than of properly enshrining her in
their own affections.

* Guicciardini allows the French to have obtained all the advantages in
this victory at La Bastia, calling it a rout rather than a combat ; but he
diminishes the importance of the event, which, by other historians, is re
duced to an affair between detachments.

CHAPTER XXI.

IF the victory at La Bastia brought joy and exultation to
the court of Ferrara, it was productive of an equal degree
of rage and disappointment in the bosom of Pope Julius.
He was nearly beside himself when the tidings reached him
at Mirandola ; and nothing but the most earnest exhortations
of his chief officers succeeded in dissuading him from laying
siege instantly to Ferrara itself. They, however, of less im-
perious will and less prevailing passions than the Holy Fa-
ther, were better prepared to see the difficulties and dan-
gers of such a leaguer. They described to him the strength
of the place, how well it was defended, how amply provis-
ioned, and, in particular, with what a host they would have
to contend in the person of Bayard alone, who began, about
this time, to acquire the appellation of The Invincible !
Satisfied that his policy required that he should avoid the
perils and the expense of a siege, he resorted to the hum-
bler arts of corruption. There were persons in Ferrara,
citizens, and of good family, who, as the Pope well knew,
were not incorruptible. To these he despatched his emis-
saries, at successive periods, plying them with arguments
and bribes, and suggesting schemes for obtaining the pos-
session of the gates of the place. But our Frenchmen kept
too good a watch for the success of these practices. The
emissaries, six or eight of them, were detected and hung,
and the suspected citizens cast into prison.

Infirmity of purpose was not the fault in the character of
Julius. Baffled in all his plans, he did not forego his object.
He now conceived a scheme much more in keeping with
well known Italian policy. There was, in the duchy of

228 MESSIRE AUGUSTINO GUERLO.

Milan, a gentleman of Lodi, named Messire Augustine Guer-
lo. This person, though a subject at the time of the King
of France, was yet a creature of the Pope — a great schemer,
subtle, intriguing ever, and with a passion for all sorts of
treasons, stratagems and spoils. This passion, at a future
day, cost him his head, which he lost to Stuart d'Au-
bigny, at Brescia. But while he was still in possession of
this treasure-house of plot and policy, the Pope called him
to his service, and, giving him his lessons, sent him to Fer-
rara. There he was empowered to propose to the duke,
secretly, that the war should cease between them — that he
should send the French away and become the ally of the
Church, and, in return for these services, he was to receive
one of the Pope's nieces for his eldest son, while the duke
himself should be made gonfalonier and captain-general of
the troops of Rome. The French dismissed from the service
of the duke, and sent from Ferrara, were to be set upon by
the Pope's army and easily destroyed by overwhelming
numbers and destitution. They could have passed into no
place from which, unless by the most miraculous good for-
tune, they could have escaped the clutches of their enemy.
Such was the scheme of the Pope, and such his offer to
the Duke of Ferrara, through Messire Augustino Guerlo.
This gentleman made his way to Ferrara, and laid his pro-
posals before the person to whom he had been sent. He
was received with forbearance, and even kindness. The
duke, who, in the acceptation of that time, was a very hon-
orable person, felt the claims of the French upon him ; and,
while he pretended to give a favorable hearing to the Pope's
embassador, he secretly and firmly resolved against the
treacherous proceeding. He regaled Messire Augustino
hospitably, then locking him up in one of the apartments
of the palace, went to communicate with the Chevalier
Bayard at his lodgings. Bayard was now in sole command
of the French at Ferrara. His superior, the " Gentle Lord"
of Montoisin, had not long survived the battle of La Bastia.

TREACHERY 229

He was a very noble and accomplished gentleman, who
had done gallant deeds in Picardy, Bretagne, Naples, and
Lombardy — " a very merlin was he," quoth the " Loyal
Servant" — " unremittingly vigilant." He was greatly the
friend of Bayard, by whom his death was honestly and
earnestly lamented.

The Duke of Ferrara communicaied to our knight, with
great frankness, the whole message and proposal of the
Pope. We do not see that this proposal contemplated a
more extreme degree of treachery than was common to the
princes of the time ; but Bayard heard the story with indig-
nation ; and, crossing himself with all the devoutness of a
good Catholic, declared that he would not believe that so
wicked a conception could possibly have found its way into
the heart of the Holy Father. But the duke's assurances
were positive ; and, to satisfy our hero, he proposed that
Bayard should occupy a closet, whence every thing might
be heard, while the emissary was made once more to go
over all the particulars of his communication. But the
latter was satisfied, however reluctantly, of the truth of
the narration, without rendering necessary any resort to
this espionage. The duke concluded with warm declara-
tions of his obligations to the French, and assured our
knight that he would sooner be torn asunder by wild horses
than yield to any such dishonorable suggestion. Bayard
professed himself satisfied, and the duke then proposed that
the shearer should go home shorn ; in other words, that the
treachery of the Pope might be made to recoil upon him-
self, and the emissary whom he had sent should be em-

tf

ployed as an instrument against him. The general propo-
sition necessarily pleased our hero, who, as a master of
stratagem in war, saw something commendable in the pro-
cess of turning one's weapons against himself, and he gave
his assent to the proposition without scruple. Upon which
the duke disappeared. Returning to Messire Augustine,

he called him to a second conference. Here it was Italian

U

230 HOW ANSWERED.

against Italian — the subtle pupils of the same school oppo-
sing their kindred wits. After several preliminaries, all of
which aimed only at an opportune introduction of his chief
policy, the duke reminded the emissary that the Pope was
not a person to be trusted ; that he, at least, had no reason
to confide in the assurances of one who had so frequently
threatened his life — who, it was well known, was the per-
son whom he was most hated in the world, and for whose
territories and cities Julius had the most longing appetite.
" Nextly," said the duke, " what should I gain by telling
the Lord of Bayard that I have no farther need of him and
his companions ] Will he not suspect me, and hath he not
a greater force in this town than I myself? Will he not
hold his ground till he can communicate to the King of
France, or to his lieutenant-general, this side of the Alps 1
And will it not be that, in making the Pope my ally, I
bring these both upon my head V1

The reasoning of the duke was irresistible, and he pro-
ceeded after this fashion — " And now, Messire Augustino,
if I find it impossible to rely on the good faith of the Pope,
so will it be your impossibility also. You know this Julius,
as well as I, to be of a terrible nature, choleric and vin-
dictive, and so treacherous, that it is a sure peril to have
had his confidence in any affairs of secrecy. Whatever he
may show you now of his secret policy, will he punish
you for by some cruel trick hereafter. This, surely, is well
known to you; but even supposing him faithful to you so
long as he lives, what will be your fortune when he dies ]
No pope harbors or keeps the servants of him whom he
succeeds. You have no chance of favor, but rather the
contraiy, from any who shall become his successor."

These were melancholy truths, which the emissary was
compelled to acknowledge. The duke continued. He
opened a more pleasing prospect to Messire Augustino :
"You know me, and know that I am rich. Now were you
to do me any service in helping to rid me of this my worst

BAYARD'S SIMPLICITY. 231

enemy, you shall riot only receive a handsome present, but so

good an income, that you should live at ease all your life after.

" The result of these overtures was, that the Pope's

agent was brought over to the duke's service. The bait

o O

was irresistible ; and the base and covetous scoundrel, de-
claring his intimacy with Julius, and the facilities which he
possessed, through this intimacy, for perpetrating any
crime, offered to take him off by poison in the space
of eight days. The price of blood was something larger
than that required by Judas. The deed being accom-
plished, he was to receive two thousand ducats in hand,
and five hundred a year afterwards for life. The treaty
made, the excellent duke, never doubting but that he had
performed a highly praiseworthy action, went out to com-
municate with our chevalier. Bayard was traversing the
city ramparts, amusing himself in watching the process of
opening a loop-hole in the walls. Seeing the duke ap-
proach, he advanced to meet him. The latter took him by
the hand, and leading him off from all other persons, said
to him — " My Lord of Bayard, it is very sure that the
traitor will always, in the end, be betrayed. Thus it hap-
pens that the treachery which the Pope has conceived
against us, will fall upon him. This fellow have I won to
our cause, so that he will do unto the Pope that which he
desired to have done to you. Messire Augustino Guerlo
hath assured me that the Pope can not, at farthest, live
eight days longer."

Bayard, in his innocence and simplicity of character, did
not really comprehend the meaning of the duke, or desired
to discourage him in the proceeding by a refusal to under-
stand or to conceive of such a treachery. His answer,
which declared his astonishment, must have astonished the
subtler Italian. " Now, how can he know this, my lord 1
Is he in the secrets of Providence 1 Hath he spoken with
God 1" The duke answered him, significantly — " Never
you mind — so shall it happen !" Then, as Bayard pressed

232 BAYARD'S INTEGRITY.

him farther, he told how the emissary of the Pope had en-
gaged to poison him within the designated space of time.
The whole heart of Bayard recoiled at the revelation.
His idea of policy and stratagem was of that only which
should obtain a fair field, and no favor from his enemy.
To beguile him from his fortress, — to gain entrance with-
in, or to persuade him to forego his advantages, — these
were objects, to attain which, chivalry and war equally
justified a resort to ordinary artifices — to the employment of
the secret agent — to the corruption of a sentinel ; but these
artifices themselves were only sanctioned by a readiness, on
the part of him who employed them, to incur the perils of
the actual conflict to which they were expected to conduct.
Poisoning and stabbing were riot among the virtues of such
a warfare. The stern honor of Bayard instantly spoke out
with all the eager impetuosity of his character, as he found,
not only what was the stratagem designed by the emissary,
but that the Duke of Ferrara was really anxious to employ
its agency.

" My lord duke, I can not suppose it possible that a
prince so honorable as yourself will consent to so black a
treachery. Could I believe it possible, I swear by the life
of my soul, I should, ere this night were over, reveal it to
the Pope myself."

The duke expostulated. " He would have done as much
for us."

" I care not for that. I, at least, will not consent that he
be murdered thus."

The duke shrugged his shoulders, then spitting upon the
ground, said, " My Lord of Bayard, would that I could dis-
pose of all my enemies as easily as that ! Howbeit, since
the thing is not to your liking, it shall be given up ; but,
God help us ! we shall both repent of our forbearance here-
after."

" Not so, please God !" answered Bayard. " Nay, far-
ther, my lord duke, you will do well, and I entreat you,

ITALIAN SOLDIERY. 233

to deliver into my hands the fellow who proffers to do this
beautiful piece of work ; and if I have him not hanging
from these battlements within this hour, let me hang there
in his stead."

But the duke had given to Messire Augustino Guerlo a
promise of safety, and he dismissed him after formally re-
leasing him from the engagement which the virtuous spirit
of Bayard had refused to sanction. He returned to the
Pope, who was suffered to survive the period to which his
career was limited — who never appears to have conjectured
the deep treachery of his embassador, and how much he
was indebted to the honorable courage of our hero. It
does not appear that the Duke of Ferrara felt less' kindly
to our " good knight" because of the inevitable rebuke
which was conveyed by the disagreement of the latter to
the criminal policy which the former was prepared to adopt.
We are not told how long he remained in Ferrara after
this event. The place was relieved from present dangers,
the Pope repairing to Bologna, for the purpose of meeting
embassadors from the different potentates, with whom he
was to officiate as mediator. He was not the person for
such an office, and his presence only served to kindle new
animosities. The negotiation failed entirely, and, as soon
as the result was known, the Marshal Trivulzio, at the
head of a large body of troops, hastened toward Bologna.
With these troops went Bayard. Mirandola was captured
and restored to the noble and gallant countess who had
fought for it so well. Bologna was yielded, a bloodless vic-
tory, to the arms of the French ; the Pope narrowly making
his escape to Ravenna. He had faith neither in his own
troops nor in the people of the country. The former were
by no means prepared to fight the French, and the latter
were pleased to welcome them. So worthless were the
men-at-arms of the Pope, that one Frenchman captured
five or six, and earned them off safely ; while an instance
is given of one La Bauline, an invalid soldier, with a le^ of

234 GRATZ AND GORETZ.

wood, who took three prisoners and safely bound them to-
gether. The only fighting that was done, took place under
Bayard, who led the horse, and who distinguished himself
greatly by the surprise and in the assault. The Marshal
Trivulzio declared at supper, on the evening of the victory,
that, under God, the success was all due to the Lord of
Bayard. The Pope lost every thing, — bag, baggage, tents,
arms, artillery, and ammunition.

In Bologna, our good knight was not suffered to remain
idle. The Emperor Maximilian was once more in trouble
and needing assistance, or rather once more ambitious of
conquest, and anxious to spare his own levies. The coun-
try of l^riuli, a beautiful region, held by the Venetians, lay
temptingly before his eyes. It was easily accessible from
Germany, and was desirable on many accounts. The King
of France had no reason to censure the cupidity which
sought its gratification at the expense of his enemies ; and, in
answer to his entreaties, Chabannes, lord de la Palisse, was
sent to his assistance with eight thousand foot and twelve
hundred horse. Chabannes knew too well the resources of
Bayard to fail to procure his companionship. The French
found the army of the emperor at Verona, from which place
they proceeded to besiege Treviso, where nothing was
effected. From this place, taking with him the gendarms
of the Duke of Lorraine, and a company under Fontrailles,
Bayard was sent against Gratz and Goretz, which he cap-
tured. Having garrisoned these places for, and with troops
of, the emperor, he returned to the camp, where, through
the imbecility of Maximilian's officers, or of himself, noth-
ing had been done, and all was distress and confusion. The
troops were neglected, and left to starve for six days, without
bread or wine, and in a sickly country. Four thousand of
the French perished through disease. Chabannes, at length,
grew impatient of inactivity and at the condition of his
troops. He became earnest to return to Bologna ; but this
was resisted by the emperor's officers, between whom and

GASTON DE FOIX. 235

the French captain high words followed. The result was the
withdrawal of the French troops, who removed to St. Boni-
facio, a village which we remember as one from which,
during the previous campaign of the German emperor, the
Venetians were wont to make their most vigorous sallies.
Here they remained a short time before rejoining the main
army of France in Italy. This they found in great distress
on account of the recent death of the generalissimo, the
Grand-Master de Chaumont. He was reputed to be one of the
ablest captains in the French army. He was succeeded in
command by the famous Gaston de Foix,duke of Nemours,
then no more than twenty-one. The renown of this remark-
able youth, who perished before his prime, is matter of history.
His bravery and sagacity, his chivalrous spirit and acute
intelligence, have secured him an enduring reputation.
That he cherished, loved, and deferred to Bayard, whom he
might well have chosen as his model, is not the least proof
of his sagacity and worth.

It was during a brief respite from the actual pressure
and emergency of war, that the Duke de Nemours paid a
visit of state and courtesy to the Duke and Duchess of Fer-
rara, in their city of that name. He was accompanied by
Bayard and other of his captains, and was received with
those civilities and entertainments which nobody knew bet-
ter how to give than the noble Lady of the House of Fer-
rara. Amon^ these entertainments was one of a less festive

o

character and occasion than the rest. This was a duel be-
tween two Spaniards, one of whom was named Santa Cruz,
and the other the Senor Azevedo. The former had been a
colonel of foot in the service of the Pope ; the other had
held a command in the same troops and service. The duel
arose from an assertion, made by Azevedo, that Santa Cruz
had endeavored to compass his death by treachery. They
were both of good blood and honorable fame ; and the ap-
plication to the Duke de Nemours, to sanction the fight by
his presence and that of his gentlemen, was graciously an-

236 COMBAT A L'OUTRANCE.

swered in the affirmative, after the cause of quarrel had
been duly made known. The lists were prepared before
the palace of Ferrara, and the champions appeared at the
appointed time, both well attended by men-at-arms and gen-
tlemen, from one to two hundred in number. Though the
terms of the fight were " to the uttermost" in other words,
though the fight was a deadly one, the fair dames of Ferra-
ra were spectators. The opponents were provided with
poniards, rapiers, and secrettes, which are described as a
kind of axe. Both fell upon their knees, making their
prayers to God, and — a commentary upon the faithlessness
of the age — their persons were examined to see if they
bore any secret armor or weapons beyond those with which
they had been furnished. This done, the field was cleared,
none remaining but the combatants, their seconds, and
Knight Bayard, whom, as one that understood such matters
much better than any man living, the Duke of Ferrara had
appointed master and keeper of the field. Then the herald
cried aloud, making the usual proclamation, that no one was
to interfere between the combatants, or in any way to coun-
sel, assist, or advise them — and this warning extended even
to an order against spitting or coughing, or the slightest
signs, by which either of the parties might be supposed to
be influenced, favorably or otherwise.

These preliminaries at an end, the champions confront-
ed each other for the deadly combat. Deadly, with such
weapons, it might well be looked to be, as neither of them
wore defensive armor of any kind. Azevedo held his rapier
in his right and poniard in the left hand. Santa Cruz kept
his poniard in the sheath, wielding the rapier only. And
thus they began the fight. Both were active, alert, and
good swordsmen, and the conflict promised to be a vigor-
ous one. After several thrusts, Santa Cruz made a dex-
trous pass at the face of his adversary, which Azevedo as
dextrously parrying, his rapier in descending pierced the
upper part of his enemy's thigh to the bone. Santa Cruz

THE ISSUE. 231

would have darted forward to avenge his hurt, but fell in
doing so. Azevedo then approached him, and, in the lan-
guage of a conqueror, cried to him, " Yield Santa Cruz, or
I slay thee." The latter made no answer, but, sitting up-
right, with sword extended, betrayed a settled determina-
tion to perish rather than surrender. Azevedo, magnani-
mously, then proposed that he should rise ; for that he could
not strike him in that position. The wounded man accord-
ingly struggled once more forward on his feet, and made
at his enemy ; but the latter putting by his thrust, Santa
Cruz fell again, and this time, with his face to the earth.
The victor raised his sword to smite off his head, which he
might easily have done, but his generosity arrested the
blow. Still, though summoned, Santa Cruz refused to sub-
mit or declare himself conquered. This stubbornness would
have been fatal to him, as, according to the custom of the
time, the successful champion was required to bring the
matter to an issue, either in the confession or the death
of his foe. The Duchess of Ferrara then interposed with
the Duke de Nemours, with clasped hands and pleading
eyes, that the warder should be thrown down and the com-
batants withdrawn. But this was not within his jurisdic-
tion. " Madame," said he, " for your sake I should be
well pleased to do so ; but I can not rightfully, and ought
not to interfere with the conqueror."

Meanwhile, Santa Cruz was losing all the blood in his
body, and, though his conqueror forbore any farther stroke,
the wound would be fatal if he were not instantly relieved.
The Prior of Messina, one of his seconds, then said to Aze-
vedo, " Sefior, I know the spirit of Santa Cruz will not suf-
fer him to surrender. He will die first, and, since there is
no other remedy, I yield myself your prisoner in his place."
The pledge was accepted, and, falling upon his knees, the
successful duellist uttered his thanks to the Deity for hav-
ing spared and crowned him with triumph, for having —
violated his most righteous laws.

238 THE ARMOR OF THE VANQUISHED.

The surgeon was now permitted to approach the wound-
ed man. The flowing blood was staunched, and his people
bore him from the field to his lodgings. But, in doing so,
they violated one of the laws of the combat. They car-
ried with him the weapons of war, which were properly
the prize of the conqueror. This seems to have been the
case even where the combat was on the point of honor,
and when it was urged a I'outrance, — a seeming anomaly,
since the objects of the tournament were essentially differ-
ent, and since the spoils of the combat can scarcely be a
consideration with him who goes into it to rescue his good
name from reproach, arid with every sensibility outraged
by indignity and wrong. Such, however, was the rule at
this period in the courts of chivalry, and it was one which
the successful party tenaciously insisted upon. Azevedo
sent to demand the arms of Santa Cruz, but his followers
refused to give them up. He complained, accordingly, to
the Duke de Nemours, who referred it to Bayard, by
whom it was ruled that if the weapons were not yielded,
the vanquished was to be brought back within the lists,
his wound again laid open, and he restored, in all respects
as nearly as possible, to the condition in which he lay when
his second made the surrender in his place. This neces-
sity, which was communicated by our good knight, soon
brought the stubborn party to his senses. The arms were
given up to Bayard by whom they were delivered to Aze-
vedo, who went on his way rejoicing to the sound of clarion
and trumpet.

i i .

•N,Y

filli! !:• i

CHAPTER XXII.

THE Pope's assumption of the helm and spear of Mars,
and his consequent desertion of the office, if not the chair,
of St. Peter, led to a bold desire on the part of the Emper-
or Maximilian and the King of France to deprive him of
his authority. A council of the Church was called, to be
held at the city of Pisa, from whence, however, it was re-
moved, through fear of the populace, to Milan, where it
sat securely under the protection of the French. This
measure was the result of long deliberation between the
two princes by whom it was planned, and several cardinals
were prevailed upon to unite in an alliance against the
Holy Father. Against this alliance, which threatened to
be formidable, the Pope bestirred himself with his usual
diligence. He appointed a general council of the Church
to be held at Rome, warned the disobedient cardinals to
return to their duty within sixty-five days, under pain of

240 LEAGUE AGAINST THE FRENCH.

the forfeiture of their dignities and revenues; and suc-
ceeded, by certain concessions made to Ferdinand of Ar-
ragon, in beguiling him, in the teeth of recent pledges
made to France, into a union with himself and the Vene-
tians. The Holy League was the imposing title given to
this alliance, into which Henry VIII. of England was drawn
by the influence of his father-in-law, the King of Arragon.
The latter agreed to furnish twelve hundred men-at-arms
and ten thousand foot, under the command of Don Ray-
mond de Cardona, viceroy of Naples, with a train of artil-
lery and eleven war galleys ; the Pope contributed six hun-
dred men-at-arms, and the Venetians their whole forces,
by land and sea. Henry VIII. was to send an army into
Guienne, which province was to be the reward of his ser-
vices. A large body of Swiss was also subsidized by the
Pope, for the purpose of making a descent upon the Mi-
lanese while the allies were engaging the attention of the
French in other parts of Italy. A judicious plan of can-
cert brought most of the allies into the field at the same
moment, and demanded the instant employment, by the
French, of all the resources in their power. Fortunately,
they had the first and most necessary of all in their famous
leader, Gaston de Foix, duke of Nemours. He first turn-
ed his attention upon the Swiss, who descended from their
mountains about the close of the year loll. They bore
on this occasion the famous standard which had so often
been the terror of their enemies, upon whose folds was in-
scribed in letters of gold, " DOMATORES PRINCIPUM. A MA-
TORES JUSTICLE. DEFENSORES SANCT^E ROMANCE ECCLE-
SIA ;" — an inscription, the tenor of which, they had not
always shown themselves anxious to observe. The results
of their present invasion were in no respects commensurate
with the imposing language of their standard. They mark-
ed their progress in the destruction of the hamlets through
which they passed, and, while the great body of the French
were employed in garrison at Verona, Bologna, and other

DEATH OF BAKON DE CONTI. 241

towns, they gained some advantages over detachments
which the Duke de Nemours sent forward, rather to watch
and to retard their progress than to join with them in bat-
tle. Skirmishes were frequent between the advance-guards
of the Swiss and these patrolling parties, the French gradu-
ally retiring before their enemies, until they found shelter
in Milan. From this place, the Baron de Conti, going forth
with an hundred horse to make an incursion, was unfortu-
nate in meeting with a vastly superior force, by which he
was roughly handled, losing several of his men, and he
himself retiring wounded to the death. This was a severe
loss to Bayard, who was the bosom friend of this noble-
man. But Bayard better loved to avenge than to mourn
the death of his comrade. Such, indeed, is the usual mode
of expressing sorrow, among men of war, in all ages. He
buckled on his armor and sallied forth the very next day
after this event, seeking the very spot where the Baron of
Conti had met his death. Here he encountered five hun-
dred of the Swiss, whom he overthrew ; and, the blood of
his friend still before his eyes, we may well suppose
that he did not too suddenly withhold the arm of slaugh-
ter.

The leaguer of Milan was not long maintained by these
capricious mountain mercenaries, who carried the proud
inscription upon their standard, rather for the eyes of others
than their own. Their provisions beginning to fail them,
they were not unwilling to listen to terms of composition ;
and having his hands full of other arms, with whom hard
blows only would avail, the Duke de Nemours found it
politic to buy off with money these excellent defenders of
the Holy Roman Church. Their leaders were soon per-
suaded to retrace their steps across the Alps ; and the
states of Milan being thus put in security, the French
general proceeded to the relief of the city of Bologna, the
siege of which had been commenced by the allied army on
the 26th of January, 1512. The Papal troops were en-

X

242 ALBERTO PICO OF CARPI.

trusted to the Cardinal Medici, as legate of Bologna, under
whom Marc Antonio Colonna acted as general of the
Church. Don Raymond de Cardona, who led the Span-
iards, was assisted by Fabrizio Colonna and Pietro Na-
varro. The city was held by Annibale and Hermes
Bentivoglio, with a powerful Italian party, which had ad-
hered to the fortunes of the French ; and a strong body of
troops of the latter nation, under the command of Lautrec.
The allies had made considerable progress in the siege.
Their approaches were carried on in due form, and the
walls were gradually crumbling under the continual fire of
the artillery. A mine, meanwhile, had been sprung in an
excavation, which was meant to lay the city in ruins. But,
fortunately for the inhabitants, the explosion only lifted
from its foundations a chapel of the Virgin, which, after
making certain evolutions in the air (which afforded the
besiegers a momentary view of the interior of the city),
settled down quietly upon the spot which it had formerly
occupied, and closed the breach with its own massive
ruins. These, as the chapel stood immediately against the
walls of the city, served the purpose of a sufficient tem-
porary barricade. The besiegers were somewhat discour-
aged by this result of their exertions. The besieged, on
the contrary, found something in it auspicious to their
hopes of a successful defence. That the chapel of the
Holy Virgin del Barracane should have so appropriately
occupied the breach made by the enemy, was surely some-
thing upon which true believers might base the most flatter-
ing hopes of the future.

Meanwhile, the Duke de Nemours, hearing of the
approaches of the Spanish army, to the leaguer of the
place, repaired to a village nearer Ferrara, named Finale,
where he employed himself in assembling his forces for its
relief. While on his advance to this place, he stopped for
two days at the little town of Carpi, where he was enter-
tained by Alberto Pico, count thereof, a nobleman who had

THE ASTROLOGER OF CARPI. 243

the reputation of being a great master of ancient as well as
modern literature. Among the subjects which at that time
greatly interested the politicians of this little town, was the
presence among them of a great astrologer — a soothsayer,
whose revelations of the past, and whose predictions of the
future, were the topics in every mouth. The wise, in that
day, were not superior to those superstitions which spelled
the ears of the vulgar. On the contrary, while the Church
forbore to disavow, science and nobility somewhat insisted

•

upon them. An astrologer was still kept by princes even
after the fool had been discarded ; and pride and pomp
had their faith in prophecy even while forgetting reli-
gion. When the gentle Duke de Nemours heard of the
astrologer of Carpi, he became exceedingly anxious to
behold him, and his host was not unwilling that the cu-
riosity of his guest should be gratified. A certain degree
of faith in what he should declare was inspired in the
minds of the French gentlemen by what they had heard
already of his predictions. " Surely," says the " Loyal
Servant," " the true Christian must believe that God alone
can look into futurity ; yet did this astrologer of Carpi
show so many things, and to so many people, which after-
ward proved true, that he turned the heads of a great
number."

The soothsayer readily obeyed the summons of the count,
and appeared before him and his guests. He was lean of
person, of middle stature, and about sixty years of age.
His aspect commanded respect, and his manners secured
it. The Duke of Nemours received him graciously, shook
hands with him, and was answered with the propriety and
dignity of one who knew equally well what was due to him-
self and others. Much conversation passed between them,
before the duke began his inquiries. He then asked of the
astrologer if the Viceroy of Naples (Don Raymond de Car-
dona) and the Spaniards would stay to join battle. He an-
swered in the affirmative, and added that the engagement

244 HIS PREDICTIONS.

would take place upon Good Friday, or Easter Sunday,
and would be a very bloody one. When asked which side
would gain the victory, he replied thus : " The French will
keep the field; the Spaniards will sustain the most grievous
loss they have experienced for an hundred years ; but the
French will gain little by it, for their losses will also be
great, particularly in men of distinction. He spake so that
it was wonderful to hear. Chabannes, the Lord de la Pa-
lisse, then demanded of him if he should perish in the bat-
tle. He told him that he would not — that he would survive
twelve years longer, and be slain in another engagement.
The answer to a question of the Lord of Humbercourt was
similar. Captain Bichbourg, he counselled to beware of
lightning, and his answers, to all who sought, were equally
confident and particular.

Bayard seems to have treated these predictions of the
astrologer with no great reverence, and made no inquiries
at his hands. Seeing the smile upon his lips, the Duke de
Nemours urged him to look also into the womb of the fu-
ture. " Come, my Lord of Bayard, come, my friend, do
you interrogate the master also."

" And why ]" answered Bayard ; " it is surely needless,
since I well know I can never come to any thing very
great ; but, since you desire it, so be it." Then turning to
the astrologer, " Pray, good master, shall I ever become a
greatly rich man V

11 Greatly rich in honor and virtue as any captain of
France that ever lived ; but of the goods of fortune you
will always own but few. These, indeed, you do not
covet. You will serve another king than him who now
reigns in France, and will be much loved and honored
by him, but the envy of rivals will keep him from be-
stowing upon you the wealth and the honors which you

merit."

" And shall I escape the battle which impends, and which
you say will be a very bloody one ]"

BAYARD'S EVASION. 245

" You will, but you will perish at last in battle, and by
artillery, within twelve years at farthest. But for this, you
would never end your days in the field, as none who follow
you would ever leave you in jeopardy."

" It was as good as a comedy," says our chronicler, who
seems to have been present, " to hear the interrogatories, as
they were put to the astrologer, and to remark his answers."
At the close of the interview, observing that, of all the cap-
tains, Chabannes and Bayard were the most intimate with
the Duke de Nemours, he drew these two aside and said
to them — " There is something, my lords, which I have
not said to this prince whom you follow, and who seems to
be very much beloved among you. This will I say to you
— for he merits to be loved and honored. Give heed to
him, therefore, on the day of battle, for he is very like to
fall therein. Should he survive, he will become one of the
greatest and most exalted personages that France hath ever
produced. But it will be scarce possible for him to escape
this danger; for, on my head, it is a peril as great as ever
threatened mortal !"

" Cursed !" exclaims our quaint and simple chronicler —
" cursed be the hour, alas ! whereof he so truly prophesied !"
The two knights turned, and probably with grave looks, to
the assembly; when the Duke de Nemours asked, with a
smile, of what the astrologer had spoken. Bayard answer-
ed promptly, with a happy evasion, at the expense of Cha-
bannes, " Sir, my Lord de la Palisse hath been enquiring
of him whether he be as well beloved of Reffuge as
Viverot. He is not over happy that the answer should
be ' nay.' "

The laughter of the duke followed the jest, and, just then,
the arrival of a new-comer still farther served to lessen the
gravity which the revelations of the soothsayer might have
wrought on every face. This person was one of those, who
are probably to be found in every camp, whose valor is the

only virtue to compensate for a thousand vices. Jacquin

•*•#

246 JACQUIN CAUMONT.

Caumont held the office of standard-bearer in one of the
bands of Captain Molart. These bands belonged to the
class of " free-lances." They were, in fact, mere mercena-
ries, such as the wars in Italy particularly encouraged —
though having in their ranks numerous persons of good
family and blood and of high distinction. Notoriously vicious
among his bands, Caumont carried with him no very honor-
able odor. But he was brave and audacious, and these are
always redeeming virtues in an army. Disposed to share
in the pastimes of his superiors, this adventurer drew the
astrologer aside, and, using some offensive appellation, de-
manded of him his fortune also. The manner of Caumont,
and perhaps his well-known character, provoked the other's
indignation, who angrily refused to answer any of his ques-
tions. Apologizing for his rudeness, Caumont finally per-
suaded the astrologer to examine his hand — palmistry and
physiognomy being among his modes of divination. But
the examination only determined the astrologer to answer
none of Caumont's enquiries. " Ask me nothing," said he,
" I can tell you nothing good."

The company laughed aloud, and the adventurer becom-
ing disconcerted, now insisted upon his revelations. Thus
urged, the astrologer answered: " Then look to your soul
in good time, for in less than six months you will be hung
and strangled."

Little did the hearers fancy that this prediction was to be
verified. They took for granted that the soothsayer sought
nothing farther than to revenge upon the irreverent Cau-
mont the insulting language with which the other had ad-
dressed him ; and was emboldened to speak thus, as he saw
in how little respect the adventurer was treated by the com-
pany. But such, verily was the fate of the fellow, who ful-
filled his destiny after the battle of Ravenna, of which more
hereafter. He was secure, meanwhile, against drowning,
thus realizing the truth of a famous proverb; to illustrate
which, says our ancient chronicler, "I will now proceed to

CAUMONT ON A FROLIC. 247

tell you what soon befel him ;" and thereupon he tells the
following story, which, as illustrative of the manners and
conduct of the time, we repeat for the benefit of the
reader. It was two or three days after the scene with the
astrologer that the Duke de Nemours, with his forces, ar-
rived at Finale. This was a great village, through which
ran a deep canal which emptied into the river Po. The
canal was daily traversed by hundreds of vessels bringing
supplies and provisions for the French. It was crossed by
a wooden bridge, the dimensions of which, ample enough
in the day-light, and for sober people, were perhaps some-
what circumscribed at midnight, and for wayfarers who had
been pledging their comrades like hearty fellows. Jacquin
Caumont was a frolicsome blade, who no more shrunk from
his bottle than from his enemy. He had supped late and
drank deep with his pot-companions, and the demon seized
him, about the ninth hour of the night to do something
handsome, in emulation of such knights as Bayard. Tak-
ing with him a number of Swiss, bearing torches and tim-
brels, he dashed forth gallantly, with gay music and glitter-
ing lights, toward the lodging of his captain, the Lord of
Molart. He was armed at all points, mounted on a very
fine courser, and equipped like a St. George, at least — his
pay and plunder, it may be mentioned, sufficing not only to
keep him in good suppers, but to furnish him with a varie-
ty of splendid apparel and several great horses. His great
ambition, we should add, was to be enrolled among the
ordinary men-at-arms of France. These, we have al-
ready mentioned, were generally select persons, of the
best condition ; it being a great favor, on the part of the
king, to admit the candidate to this class of his warriors.
It was, probably, with some view to commending him-
self to the gendarms of the Duke de Nemours that Mes-
sire Jacquin Caumont sallied out on this midnight expe-
dition.

When the Lord of Molart beheld the adventurer in this

248 HIS TILT.

gallant trim, and at that late hour of the night, he laughed
loudly, for he saw that the malmsey had been more than
usually potent. There was no such rigid discipline among
these free companions — as they were called — such as the reg-
ular military service in our times demands, and which would
have caused such an offender as Caumont to be consigned
to the guard. The Lord of Molart laughed merrily at the
sight of his lieutenant's ecstacy, and cried to him, " How
now, Captain Jacquin, are you minded to leave off trail-
ing the pike V

" By no means, my lord," was the answer, " but I come
that you should conduct me to the lodging of my Lord
of Nemours. I would have him see me break the lance
I hold, that he may know whether a saulte-puisson will not
run at a tilt as well as a lean jade."

Molart, himself tickled with the prospect of a merry jest,
never doubted that the duke would find a source of pleas-
ure in it also. Under his conduct, therefore, Captain Cau-
mont crossed the wooden bridge and -proceeded to the
duke's lodgings. This nobleman came forth with his
guests at the summons of the Lord of Molart, and seeing
them appear, surrounded by the glare of torches, that made
the scene as bright as day, the captain placed himself with-
in the lists. " For whom would you break a lance, Cap-
tain Jacquin," demanded the duke, " for the love of your
lady, or of me T'

Swearing a trooper's oath, which was, of course, of am-
ple dimensions, the ambitious adventurer answered by say-
ing, " that it was for the love of him, and that he was a fit
man to serve the king either on foot or horseback." Thus
speaking, he lowered his visor, and tilted as well as he was
able — inexperience and a skinful of wine making the whole
Exhibition appear very ludicrous to the accomplished men-
at-arms among the French. But with all his tilting he
found it impossible to shiver his lance, and, sobered some-
what in the shame of his discomfiture, which soon provoked

SIEGE OF BOLOGNA. 249

the indignation as well as laughter of the spectators, he
wheeled about to return to his lodgings, but in no proper
mood for riding. His horse partook of his bad humor,
being goaded perpetually by the spur of his rider, who,
perhaps unconsciously, contrived that it should tickle and
offend his flanks with every plunge in his progress. It so
happened that this irritating application became more ve-
hement just as our Captain Caumont was about to cross
the bridge. The steed leapt aside from the torture, the
planks of the bridge had been rendered slippery from a
recent rain, and the result was that steed and rider were
wallowing in the waters of the canal before any of his at-
tendants could interfere. They waved their torches and
cried aloud for help with sufficient lungs, but as the canal
was a flat-bottomed ditch, with abrupt sides, and no conve-
nient ascents, they could give him no succor from above. He
must have perished but for the numerous boats that crept
along the stream. Horse and man were both saved — the
latter with more difficulty than the former. The excellent
captain, taken out of the water, was hung up by the heels
until he had disgorged much more than he had willingly
imbibed. That he should have been rescued and saved,
thus immersed, at midnight and in midwinter, armed, as
he was, at all points, only served, in the opinion of all, to
establish the wonderful felicity of the proverb. He was
reserved for a still more ignoble fate.

But we must take the road to Bologna. The Duke of
Nemours was now apprised that, unless immediately re-
lieved, it must fall into the hands of the allies. The sea-
son was unfavorable for such a progress, but the case was
urgent and it was resolved on. The march was begun
and conducted with such secrecy that the French entered
the city of Bologna, sixteen thousand in number, without
having made the besiegers at all conscious of their ap-
proach. The allies were as effectually disgraced by this
event as if they had been discomfited. They were discom-

250 SIEGE RAISED.

fited. The siege was raised, the town reinforced with men
and supplied with provisions, and the Duke de Nemours
ready to pursue such other enterprises as were suggested
by his duties or his fate.

CHAPTER XXIII.

BUT while the French were thus deservedly fortunate in
one enterprise, the Venetians were quite as successful in
another, which more than compensated for their failure at
Bologna. They succeeded, by availing themselves of a
domestic faction within the city of Brescia, in repossessing
themselves of this fine and famous town — at that rime one
of the most beautiful and strong in Europe — in the lan-
guage of one of the chroniclers, " the darling daughter of
St. Mark." The events by which they were thus success-
ful, merit recital rather by their results than because of
their own interest, which, in a narrative like the present,
must find only partial development. Brescia had been held
by the French for nearly three years. It was one of those
lovely and desirable places for which its original owners
might well be supposed to repine. A strong party in the
city were favorable to revolt, but they were kept in check
through fear of the garrison, and, in consequence of certain
rigorous measures wrhich had been adopted, on a recent
occasion, by Bayard and his associate, the Baron de Conti.
These, detecting the Count Giovanni Maria Martininque, a
member of one of the first families of the place, and one of
its most eminent men, in a conspiracy against the French
authority, did not scruple to take off his head, and to cast
certain of his confederates into prison. The place was
now held by the Count de Lude as governor, and the castle
was under the command of a gentleman of Biscay, named
Herigorge. These officers probably slept securely over
their trusts. At all events, treachery was busy within the
walls. There were two houses in the city of Brescia,

252 SIEGE OF THE CASTLE OF BRESCIA.

between which there existed a mortal feud ; — a thing by
110 means uncommon in the Italian cities. These were
the houses of Garubara and Avogadro. The former
favored the French ; the latter were hostile. The sons
of the two heads of houses having a personal encounter,
young Avogadro was severely wounded. Count Avo-
gadro sought redress from the Duke de Nemours while
he lay at Milan, but without obtaining it. The duke
probably thought the young men equally censurable,
and possibly inclined to favor the party whose sympa-
thies were with the French. But the anger of Avo-
gadro was not thus to be appeased, and his personal
resentment brought about an event which his patriotism
had never aimed at. Under color of a visit to an estate in
the country, he stole away to Venice, and there schemed
with the Seignory for restoring Brescia to their keeping.
The plan was well digested between the parties, and the
revengeful count, subduing all appearance of choler, re-
turned to Brescia, and quietly drew his faction to a head.
According to arrangement, the Venetians sounded an
alarm at the gates of the town, in great force ; the French
gallantly encountered them ; and, while engaged with the
enemy, the party of Avogadro rose in arms within. The
gates were thrown open to the Venetians ; and, assailed on
all sides, the Count de Lude was compelled to take shelter
in the castle with as many of his people as survived the
conflict, or could escape the pursuit of their foes. But
these were few; and all the French who were detected
within the town were put to the sword without mercy.
The siege of the castle then followed, but it was stubbornly
defended. The walls were battered into great breaches,
and the Venetians, under the provveditore, Andrea Gritti,
were making ready for the assault, when the tidings of
the affair reached the Duke de Nemours, in a despatch
from the Count de Lude ; who warned him that he could
only hold out for eight days, and must yield to the enemy

THE SKIRMISH.

unless relieved within that space of time. Gaston tie Foix
was not the warrior to hesitate. It was one of the valuable
points in his military character, that his promptness aud
decision were equal to his skill and valor. He had just
repossessed himself of Bologna ; but this good fortune gave
no justification to repose. He called his captains to coun-
sel, and it was unanimously agreed that Brescia was to be
retaken, and might be if the castle had not already fallen.
Orders for the march followed instantly, and the French
army was soon upon its way.

The Venetians, meanwhile, were far from idle. The
leaguer of the castle still continued ; but, ere it had well
begun, the sagacious provveditore had sent his despatches
to the Seignory, apprising them of the capture of the town,
demanding succor, and counselling that, to secure their
conquest, it was not only necessary that they should keep
the town, but be prepared to give the French battle in the
field. In compliance with these suggestions, they des-
patched two bodies of the allied troops, several thousand
in number : one of them under the command of Gian-
Paolo Baglione, the other under that of the Count Guido
Rangone. The former general encountered the advance
of the French army in a narrow pass, where he necessarily
had them at advantage. This pass he occupied with five
or six pieces of artillery. The movements of the Duke de
Nemours were executed with great rapidity; but he was
not sufficiently near the advance to take part in the action.
This was led by the light-horse, under the command of
Bayard. It so happened that our hero had been all night
suffering from the ague ; and, not expecting the meeting at
this point with enemies, of whose approach their scouts
had left them unadvised, he was entirely without his
armor, wearing only a riding-dress of black velvet. The
discharge of artillery apprising him of the presence of the
enemy, rendered necessary a change of costume. But his
own was not convenient, and borrowing a corslet from one

254 BAYARD'S VICTORY.

of the adventurers, he put this beneath his cloak, and
mounting a highly-mettled courser, dashed to the point
where the standard-bearer of the Count de Saligny had
just been shot down. The main body of the French van-
guard was still a considerable distance in the rear, but the
circumstances were such as would admit of no delay ; and
the good knight, regardless of the inequality of numbers, at
once led his troopers to the charge. A rough conflict
ensued, which had lasted for a quarter of an hour, when
the French troops began to appear in force. At this sight
the Venetians were seized with a panic. They had found
the conflict sufficiently fierce and doubtful with no other
assailants than the light-armed cavalry of their opponents,
and might very well suppose the case hopeless when fresh
troops, and in larger bodies, came to their relief. The
rout was complete. The pursuit was keenly urged, and
the sword reaped an ample harvest from the flight. The
Venetians lost all their artillery. Their infantry, abandoned
by their cavalry, were cut to pieces ; and but few of the
latter escaped in the bloody chase which followed upon
the desertion of their comrades. The victory was as-
cribed to Bayard, as the only leader of the French upon
the field. His associate in the command of the advance
guard was slain at the first discharge of the Venetian artil-
lery, and the Duke de Nemours never reached the field
until the victory was won.

The defeat of the Count Guido Rangone, who led the
other body of the allied troops which the Seignory had
sent forward to arrest the progress of the French, followed
upon this event; the obstacle in both cases exhibiting a sin-
gular feebleness in the genei-als employed, and a lack of
that steadfast courage in the troops which alone can achieve
successes. Both defeats were signal; and, without farther
interruption^, the Duke de Nemours made his way to the
castle of Brescia, which he rejoiced to find was still in pos-
session of the French. Into this, penetrating with all his

FRENCH SUMMON BRESCIA.

captains, he called an immediate council as to the best
method for making the assault upon the town. He was
not one of those, says our chronicler, who loved to dream
over their affairs ; and he felt, in this instance particularly,
all the importance of immediate action. The town was
strongly defended by eight thousand regular troops, and
some twelve or fourteen thousand peasantry who had flock-
ed into the city. Add to these the residents of the place,
and you have a force in Brescia sufficiently formidable to
task all the energies and ingenuity of the young and accom-
plished leader by whom the arms of France were led. The
town itself was very strong, but without fosse or ditch be-
tween the castle and the city. There was a good rampart
between the two, however, for the defence of which the
Venetians had posted their best troops. The summons of
the French general, who promised a pardon to the citizens
on their submission to his arms, and who threatened the
town with sack in the event of their refusal, produced no
compliance. The inhabitants declared themselves ready to
defend themselves to the last extremity. The French had
been no favorites with the citizens, as perhaps no foreign
garrison can well be in any country ; and they exhibited a
manly and determined aspect of defiance which seemed
prepared to look upon the worst. The women and children
were conducted to the monasteries ; their money and all
other valuables, which might easily be concealed, were put
away with all possible despatch and secrecy; and they stood
ready for the fatal issue. This, from the well-known celer-
ity of movement and great skill and courage of the Duke
de Nemours, they well anticipated would not be long de-
layed.

The forces under Gaston de Foix did not exceed twelve
thousand men. He had left some five thousand of his troops
in charge of Bologna. If, however, his numbers fell greatly
short of those who defended Brescia, there was this to be
claimed in their favor, that they were picked men, a vet-

256 BAYARD'S COUNSEL.

eran force, having with them the very flower of French
knighthood. The conclusion of the council, held in the cas-
tle of Brescia, determined that the assault should be made
on the morning of the next day, between the hours of eight
and nine. The plan of the attack assigned to the Lord de
Molart the bringing on of the battle. He was to commence
the assault with his infantry, while Captain Herigorge, with
his men, was to skirmish on the advance. He was to be
followed by Captain Zemberg with two thousand German
lansquenets, which were retained under the banner of
France, ignorant that their prince had despatched his orders
for their withdrawal. Seven thousand other troops, led by
the Bastard of Cleves and others, were ^o accompany this
force, and were to be succeeded by the main body of gen-
darmerie. The gate of San Giovanni, the only one which
the Brescians kept open, was to be watched by the Count
d'Alegre, to prevent all egress from that quarter. The
other gates of the town were all walled up securely.

Such was the general disposition of the assailing forces,
to which, after all the captains had agreed, Bayard opposed
a single objection : " With your lordship's leave," he said
to the duke, " and that of the other gentlemen, there is one
thing necessary to be attended to, of which nothing has
been said. You propose to send my Lord of Molart to
force the first barrier. Now, while I feel quite sure that
he will do his devoir as well as any of us, yet if the enemy
understand fighting, and this we are always to suppose,
he will be sure not only to put his best men forward to
this encounter, but his arquebusiers along with them.
Now, on such occasions, it is of the last moment never to
give back. If, then, it so happen that the Venetians
repulse these, our infantry, great disorder would ensue
among them if they are left without a sufficient body
of gendarms for their support. I am of opinion, therefore,
that the Lord of Molart should be accompanied by an
hundred or an hundred and fifty horsemen, who will sustain

PROFFER OF HAZARDOUS SERVK'K. 257

the shock better than infantry, who are armed after a dif-
ferent fashion." The answer of the duke can only be
understood by a due regard to the very different duties
which in those days were assigned to the separate orders
of troops in an army. The cavalry were a nobility.
Their duties involved that species of daring and adventure
which chivalry had assigned only to noblemen and gentle
blood. The infantry belonged to a wholly inferior service.
We may remember the ambition of the adventurer, Captain
Jacquin Caumont, belonging to these very foot-bands of
Molart, to prove to the Duke de Nemours that he merited
promotion to the horse. We shall shortly see something
more of Captain Jacquin, and shall be reminded of the
prediction of the astrologer of Carpi. Meanwhile, the
reply of the duke to Bayard, while acknowledging the
justness of this representation, avowed the difficulty of its
being complied with. " Truly, you are right, my Lord of
Bayard ; but where is the captain of gendarms who will
expose himself to the fire of the arquebusiers 1" " I will
undertake this duty, an it please you," was the reply of
Bayard, " and will venture to assure you that the company
of whom I have the command will do no discredit to the
king or to the service."

Verily this was a hazardous adventure, and the captains
regarded each other in some amazement at a proffer which
involved so much peril. The duke hesitated to comply
with the proposal ; but Bayard, insisting upon the charge,
finally obtained it. The reply of the garrison to the sum-
mons of surrender being a defiance, De Foix exclaimed to
his captains — " Now, gentlemen, we have only to perform
well, and show ourselves gallant comrades. Let us march
upon the enemy in the ii£.me of God and St. Denis !" The
words enflame the ardor of our ancient chronicler, who tells
ITS that, with their utterance, the trumpets, the labours, and
the clarions, sounded long and gloriously to the charge ;
" so that the hair of the cowardly stood on end, while the

Y*

258 ANDREA GRITTI.

hearts of the brave swelled in their bosoms." In the
morning of the 19th day of February, 1512, the garrison,
in all its force, darted from its citadel to the attack; while
the Duke de Nemours advanced with all his army against
the ramparts. With their shouts came the shots from the
town, one of which is described as passing miraculously
through the troop, which immediately surrounded the French
general, without harming a single person. A slight rain
had fallen the night before, which made the ground — which
sloped from the castle to the town — exceeding slippery, so
that it was difficult for the assailants to keep their feet.
The Duke de Nemours found a remedy against this annoy-
ance by throwing off his shoes ; and many of his chief
captains did the same. Such an event as that of a gen-
eralissimo going barefooted into battle is new to modern
chivalry. Meanwhile, the Lord of Molart, with his infantry,
attended by Captain Herigorge and his skirmishers, press-
ed forward to the first barriers of the town with sufficient
spirit. They were accompanied by Bayard, with his men-
at-arms, on foot. These were no ordinary infantry. They
were not only veterans, but many of them were captains,
or had been so ; but who preferred the lead of the " good
knight" to being in command themselves. They drew
nigh to the ramparts under a shower of bullets, that came
thick as hail from arquebuse and artillery. Here the fight
began most fervently. The Venetians fought passing well;
and, for awhile, the cry of " San Marco," sounded as cheerily
from within as that of France and Bayard from without.
The provveditore, Andrea Gritti, found his true position
here. He encouraged his men with all his eloquence and
by the bravest example.

" Be firm — hold your ground, my men," said he to them
in his native tongue. " Only be firm, and these Frenchmen
will soon be weary. But for that Bayard, they had never
approached us so nearly !" But the Frenchmen did not
tire so soon as the Venetians. The thunder of the assault

BAYARD GAINS THE RAMPARTS AND IS WOUNDED. 259

drowned the noise of the arquebusiers, and, hailing the
moment of their increased feebleness, Bayard leapt the
ramparts first, crying out to his comrades to follow. ' In
upon them, gentlemen — they are overcome, they are ours."
More than a thousand men followed the daring cavalier, and
the first barriers were quickly won. But Bayard himself
had fallen. The thrust of a pike, which greeted him as he
bounded over the ramparts, pierced his thigh. The stroke
was so well delivered, the shaft had penetrated so deeply,
that the wooden part was shivered, and the iron remained
in the wound, causing him such anguish that he believed
the hurt to be mortal. Even as he fell, he cried to the Lord
of Molart to march forward. " The town is gained, com-
panion— on with your people — as for me, I can go no far-
ther. I am slain." The blood gushing from his wound in
a torrent, after the withdrawal of the pikehead, seemed to
confirm his words. He was borne out of the press of bat-
tle by two of his archers, who tore off their shirts that they
might get cloth to stanch his wounds. Bitterly lamenting
the fall of his friend and comrade, the Lord of Molart nev-
ertheless hurried forward in obedience to his orders. As
the rumor spread that the Lord of Bayard was slain — the
" Grood Knight, sans peur et sans reproclie" — the " Flower
of the French Chivalry" — the " Mirror of Knighthood" —
for such were the titles to fame that his name had already
W0n — it aroused the fierce desire for vengeance on the
part of his followers, who, so far from being discouraged by
the event, soon forgot all their fears in their fury. Gaston
de Foix, by whom Bayard was greatly beloved, felt the
blow as severely as if it had fallen upon his own breast.
" Ah ! gentlemen, my friends," said he, " shall we not avenge
upon these wretches the death of the most accomplished
knight in the world 1 Let us do our best for it !" This

o

spirit enflamed the bosom of the meanest foot-soldier. The
force led on by Molart and Herigorge, meanwhile, had
penetrated to the great square of the city ; where a terrible

260 BRESCIA STORMED AND SACKED.

conflict succeeded. Hither followed the German lansque-
nets of Captain Zemberg; while the Count Luigi Avoga-
dro, despairing of the event, rushing, at the head of two
hundred horse, through the gate of St. Nasaro, opened a
passage to the rest of the troops under the Duke de Ne-
mours, of which the latter promptly took advantage. The
combat was still waged with fearful terrors within the city.
The citizens and the women fought from the housetops
and the windows, casting stones, bricks, and scalding-
water upon the assailants. But the timely appearance of
De Foix finished the struggle. Brescia was taken after a
dreadful struggle, and the vanquished were subjected to
all the horrible penalties which usually followed, in those
days, the excitement of such a conflict. Seven or eight
thousand of the Venetians perished in the great square
alone, and every street and avenue diverging from this
centre were strewn with the corses of the slain. Andrea
Gritti, the provveditore, was made prisoner and admitted
to mercy; but such was not the fortune of Luigi Avo-
gadro, who, captured in the effort to escape, paid for his
treason with his head. More than twenty thousand per-
sons perished in the defence and taking of this city. It
is to the credit of the Duke de Nemours that he strove
sincerely and earnestly to arrest the horrors which fol-
lowed upon the capture of the place. These continued, in
some degree, for several days, in spite of all his endeavors.
The mercenaries of the army were too numerous to be re-
strained without great delay and difficulty ; and were quite
too adroit for easy detection. The monasteries were forced
and plundered; and though several of the soldiers were sum-
marilv executed for these and other crimes, the evil scarce-

v

ly found any mitigation in their seizure and final punish-
ment. Rapine and brutality were only arrested by re-
moving the army from the city to its former encampments.
The conquest, from these circumstances, was perhaps quite
a.s injurious to the fortunes of the French in Italy as a de-

VICTORIES OF GASTON DE FOIX. 261

feat would have been. The odium with which they were
regarded, armed the inhabitants against them ; while the
spoils with which they were enriched by the plunder of
the city, beguiled thousands from the army, to their own
homes, at a moment when their presence was most neces-
sary. Of the conduct and valor displayed by the French
in this engagement there has never been but one opinion.
That the path was first opened by Bayard is equally ad-
mitted ; and there can be no doubt that, had he not been
stricken down in the moment of his successful entrance over
the barriers, his courage, humanity, and vast influence
over the troops, would have tended greatly to the preven-
tion of those excesses by which the French arms were dis-
honored. But for the wrong done to humanity, the suc-
cesses of Gaston de Foix would have been among the most
admirable examples that heroism has ever furnished to man-
kind. In fifteen days this young conqueror had raised the
sieo-e of Bologna, had defeated several bodies of the allied

O O '

troops, and, in the teeth of a vastly superior foe, had re-
gained, after a carnage the most terrible, a populous and
strongly fortified city. Well might the Venetians begin to
tremble. The city and district of Bergamo, without wait-
ing for the approach of the French, apprised of the fate of
Brescia, at once declared for the conqueror; and it was
with reason that the allies feared that the whole continental
possessions of the Venetian republic would follow the ex-
ample. Let us now return to our wounded chevalier.

CHAPTER XXIV.

BAYARD was supposed to have received his mortal
wound when he fell after the conquest of the barriers. He
himself was at first disposed to think that such was the case ;
but while the storm of battle was still raging, he very un-
willingly submitted to the restraints of his attendants who
bore him out of the press of danger. A door, torn from one
of the contiguous houses, formed a rude litter upon which
he was laid. In this manner, he was borne by his archers
to a goodly mansion in the neighborhood, which was open-
ed at their summons. This house was the residence of a
rich gentleman who was absent, and whose fate was as yet
unknown. His wife, a noble matron, having two fair daugh-
ters, was concealed with them, after a simple fashion, in a hay-
loft and beneath the hay. At the knock of our archers, com-
mending herself to God, the good woman proceeded to open
the door. This was an act of the greatest peril, in that mo-

THE ULIUSCIAN MATRON. 203

mentof storm and rapine; since it was easy to suppose that
those only would desire entrance into such a mansion as it
would be most important to keep out. It is not improbable,
however, that the wife thought upon her husband. It might
be his knock that she heard, and the danger might be im-
minent. Arming herself, therefore, with the courage of a
Roman matron, she threw wide her portals to our wound-
ed knight. He had fortunately retained his consciousness
and sense. His gentle accents reassured her. As soon
as he was admitted, he caused the doors to be once
more fastened, and assigned to a couple of his archers the
duty of guarding it. " On your lives," said he, " see that
none enter here but my own people. I am sure that when
it is once known that this is now my abode, none other will
presume to enter. Your spoils have been lessened by your
attendance upon me, but let not this concern you. You
shall lose nothing by your devotion to my service."

Our knight was conducted by the lady of the house into
a very fine apartment, and lodged with as much comfort as
splendor. When his case had been well considered, she
fell upon her knees before him, and addressed him in the
French tongue. " Noble sir, to you belongs this dwelling
and all therein. It is yours, I well know, by the laws of
war. But O ! sir, be merciful, and spare the lives and
honor of the weak women who are left to keep it, myself
and my two virgin daughters !"

The noble knight, her guest, who, says our chronicler —
never once harbored a thought of evil — though suffering
grievous pain from his hurts, yet reassured her in the teri-
derest manner. " Madam," said he, " it may be that I shall
not recover from this wound by which I am sorely stricken,
and I may promise nothing for your safety when I shall cease
to be conscious of your danger ; but as surely as I live, and
while I live, no harm shall befal your daughters or yourself
Let them keep their chamber — expose them not unnecessa
rily to evil eyes — and I may assure you confidently that

264 THE WOUNDED KNIGHT.

while I am your guest, no man shall presume to enter any
apartment against your pleasure. Let me tell you that you
have one beneath your roof who will not only not plunder
you himself, but will not suffer other hands to do so. You
shall know him by nothing but the courtesies and civilities
of the gentleman."

Verily, the noble dame was greatly comforted when she
heard this language. There was that in the frank, ingenu-
ous countenance of our suffering knight, to satisfy her that
his words were sooth — the native utterance of a noble soul,
and not simply extorted from him by a sense of weakness
and anguish. She felt, then, how important to her and to
her young daughters was the safety of one who could prom-
ise so confidently for her protection, and upon whose words
she felt so willing to rely; and, under the conduct of one of
the archers, she hurried to a neighboring house, in search
of a skilful surgeon, that the wounds of her lodger might
be dressed. Fortunately, she succeeded in soon finding him.
The inspection of Bayard's hurt showed it to be large and
deep, but not mortal ; and, at the second dressing, the sur-
geon of the Duke de Nemours was present and confirmed
the decision of the Brescian. The duke himself found out
the place of refuge of our good knight, and went to visit
him daily, for a week, saying to him at the end of that time,
that he must hurry with all despatch to get himself cured,
as it was highly probable that he should have to give battle
to the Spaniards within the month. " And," added the
duke fervently, " I had rather lose my whole estate than
lose you from that battle. My faith is in you, my friend —
in you and your fortune."

" If there be a battle in that time," was the answer of
Bayard, " you will see me present, though I am carried
thither on a litter."

Many presents from the duke accompanied or fol-
lowed his visits — among them a purse of five hundred
crowns, which our good knight divided between the

THE PROGRESS OF THE WAR. 265

two archers who had kept his house while he lay
wounded.

The city being at length relieved from the desperate ad-
venturers by whom the worst ravages had been committed
— though only with great difficulty and after several terrible
examples — and order being somewhat restored, Bayard
called his hostess to his bedside, and inquired after her hus-
band. The poor lady, bathed in tears, answered that " she
knew not whether he wras alive or dead." Her hope was
that he had found concealment in a certain monastery where
he had many acquaintance. Bayard immediately obtained
the necessaiy directions and despatched his archers in
search of the husband. He was found, and conducted in
safety to the dwelling where our good knight played the
host graciously, and gave the still trembling citizen a cheer-
ly welcome. " Be not cast down, my friend," said he,
" your wife has lodged none but friends."

For nearly five weeks was Bayard confined by his
wound in Brescia, without ever leaving his couch ; not suf-
fering from inferior surgery, or bad attendance, for of nei-
ther of these things could he complain. But his hurt,
though not mortal, was a severe and dangerous one, re-
quiring time and patience, as well as proper treatment.
Now, time and patience were, of all things, those of which,
just at this moment, our captain had the least to spare.
Each day brought him tidings from the opposing arms,
which fretted his soul, at the expense of his wound. King
Louis of France, delighted with the conquests of his ne-
phew, the noble Gaston de Foix, was yet eager that he
should follow them up. He saw that, while the Spaniards
continued to occupy the plains of Lombardy, his State of
Milan would never be secure. His policy was to remove
the seat of war from this region, and throw the expense of
supporting the struggle upon the enemy. It was, also, essen-
tial that his troops should find their way back to France,
with all possible despatch ; the coasts of that country being

Z

266 THE OPPOSING ARMIES.

threatened by great preparations which were making by
the King of England. Gaston de Foix was not unwilling
to respond to the wishes of his uncle. His own genius
required rapidity, as well as boldness of execution, in his
warlike progresses. He, too, had resolved upon doing his
utmost to bring about a rapid finish to the war. Assembling
his troops, therefore, horse and foot (having left a sufficient
garrison in Brescia), he returned to Bologna, where he was
joined by the Duke of Ferrara, with a large body of
troops and an extensive train of artillery, making his
army amount to a splendid force of twenty-five thousand
men. With these troops he pushed rapidly forward to the
meeting of the allied forces. The Pope and the Seignory
of Venice, though necessarily alarmed at the fearful prog-
ress which the French had recently made, yet continued
to maintain a firm and unyielding aspect. The former
had succeeded, by a bribe of fifty thousand florins, in
buying off, from the alliance with Louis, the mercenary
Emperor Maximilian, who, thus tempted, concluded a truce
for ten months with the Venetians. This event furnished
an additional motive to De Foix, in pressing the war to a
final issue, particularly while the morale of his troops was
heightened by their fresh and frequent victories. The
allied forces were scarcely less numerous than those of
France. They were commanded by the Cardinal Legate
de Medici, and the Viceroy Cardona, and formed one of
the best appointed armies that had ever been seen in
Italy. Fifteen hundred men-at-arms, eight hundred of
whom rode barbed horses,* of the best and most select
condition, and were clad in gold and azure, made a sight
to ravish the very soul of the lover of chivalrous sights.

* o

Three thousand light-horse, and eighteen thousand foot,

rendered the allied forces a power to be approached with
respect ; and made it doubtful whether, even in the face

* Richly clad, and partially armed with breastplate and points, as in the
tourney.

BAYARD'S IMPATIENCE. 207

of such a foe as Gaston de Foix, it was proper to avoid
the conflict. But such was the issue of the deliberations
among the captains of this host. It was thought more ad-
visable to harass the French forces, and cut oft* their
supplies, than to risk the fate of Italy on a single battle.
They retired, slowly, before the face of their enemies, and
avoided the conflict which Gaston de Foix as earnestly
t continued to seek. At this play of hide-and-seek the two
armies continued for three weeks, or longer. Frequent
skirmishes ensued between their outposts and scouts ; scarce
a day passing which did not afford prisoners for ransom to
one or the other party. But, for any general engagement,
the allies were averse. Encamped strongly, they baffled
all the attempts of the French to bring them to action ;
and, in despair of them, at last, and not to remain inactive,
the eager and impatient De Foix turned his arms in the
direction of Ravenna, which the Spaniards and Italians had
strongly occupied. In his progress in this direction, he
stormed the fortress of Russi, putting more than a thou-
sand persons to the sword ; then, without waste of time,
he pressed forward to the prouder quarry, upon which his
eagle eye was fixed.

Such were the tidings that came to Bayard in his weary
chamber, and they stung him into a defiance of his surgeon.
He resolved within himself, that, if not cured of his hurts,
it was high time that he should be so. Leaving his couch
accordingly, he tottered over his room to see whether he
could walk or not. He found himself very feeble, but the
spirit striving within him determined that he should be
strong. He sent for his surgeon, and said to him —
" Prithee, my friend, say to me, honestly, what will be the
danger of my setting forth upon a journey. I seem to my-
self quite cured, or very nearly so ; and in my own judg-
ment, believe me, to tarry longer here in this durance,
which frets me exceedingly, will do me much more harm
than good."

268 THE HOSTESS OF BAYARD.

The surgeon had long since been aware of the good
knight's impatience. His servants had already apprised
him how extreme was his solicitude about the events of the
war, and how intense was his anxiety lest he should fail to
be present at the meeting of the opposing armies. He took
these things into the account, and, after due reflection, con-
curred somewhat in opinion with his patient. " Your
wound is not yet entirely closed, my lord ; but all within is
healed. We will dress it once more, and I will provide
your barber with an ointment which will keep it from ex-
asperation. The worst part of the wound is at the top of
your thigh, and does not come in contact with the saddle.
With care, therefore, there is little danger."

The answer of this oracle, according to the " Loyal
Servant," gave our good knight more pleasure than the
sudden acquisition often thousand crowns could have done.
The surgeon was recompensed and dismissed, and Bayard
proceeded to make his preparations for departure within
two days. His people were assembled for this purpose,
and received his instructions, and his excellent hostess
was apprised that she was now to lose her captor and
protector. According to the laws of war, herself, husband,
daughters, and household, were all his property. The
goods and chattels which she held were held only in trust
for him. He might take them and herself — all — with him,
or dispose of them to others at his departure. This had
been the fate of her neighbors who had fallen into the
hands of the conquerors ; all of whom had been compelled
to ransom themselves at high prices. It is true she had
learned to know our knight, as an exception among his
fellows. His fame had already reached her ears, and her
own eyes had witnessed his benevolence and nobleness of
heart. But she still expected to pay her own and the ransom
of her daughters, which, if her guest thought proper, might
be assessed at ten or twelve thousand crowns. Her income
was but two thousand ; and though he had said nothing to

HER TIUBUTE. 269

her about a ransom, she yet prepared to make him such a
present as she thought might silence him on that subject,
particularly as she built, in a great degree, upon his mag-
nanimous and generous nature.

On the morning, therefore, which was assigned for his
departure, she entered his apartment, followed by one of
her servants, bearing a little casket of steel. Bayard had
been exercising his leg by gradual promenading, and was
now resting upon a chair. The excellent woman fell on
her knees before him, when he instantly raised her kindly,
and would not suffer her to say a word till he had seated
her beside him. She then opened her business with the
following language : " The favor, my lord, which God hath
shown me in directing you to this house of yours on the
day when Brescia was taken, hath been the saving of our
lives and the preservation of my children's chastity, which
is much more precious to them than their lives. We have
been saved also from all offence, and your people have
treated us with the most perfect courtesy. We have lost
nothing, and all that has been furnished by us hath been
paid for. My lord, we are all your prisoners. This house
and these goods are yours, to be dealt with and disposed
of as you think proper. But I have learned to know the
unparalleled nobleness of your heart, and I am now come
humbly to supplicate your compassion, and to implore that
you will deal with us with your accustomed liberality.
Here, my lord, is a little gift which I have brought you,
and which I entreat you to take in good part."

Thus saying, she opened the casket which the servant
offered, and displayed it filled with goodly golden ducats.
To her surprise, the good knight, to whom money had
never yet offered any temptations, burst into a fit of pleasant
laughter. "Madam," said he, " how many ducats, think
you, are there in this box V It was now the fear of the
worthy matron that he despised the poverty of her gift,
regarding the ducats as quite too few to make them ac-

z*

270 HOW ACCEPTED.

ceptable by way of ransom. She answered hesitatingly —
" My Lord, there are but two thousand and five hundred ;
but if these do not content you, we will bring yet more."
But the generous and gentle knight soon disabused her of
her fears. " On my honor, madam," said he, " had you
brought me an hundred thousand, I should not be so much

O

beholden to you, as I am, for the kindly treatment and the
careful tendance which I have had at your hands. Be
sure, madam, that, wherever I may be, and while God
permits me to live, you shall always have a gentleman at
your service. As for your ducats, I will have none of
them. I thank you, but take them back. All my life
long, I have loved men better than money ; and I shall
leave you quite as well satisfied as if you had placed all
this goodly town at my disposal."

The heart of the good woman was deeply touched and
somewhat wounded, as well as astonished, by this rejection
of her gift. She again threw herself at his feet, and he
again raised her to his side. She urged her present upon
him, with a new form of entreaty. " My lord, I implore
you to receive our gift. I should for ever esteem myself
the most unfortunate of women, if one to whom I owe so
much of courtesy, forbearance, and great goodness, should
scorn to take this poor tribute of our gratitude and affec-
tion." This pleading changed the character of the pro-
ceeding. The heart of the woman was now so clearly in
her gift — it was so evidently proffered by her esteem and
love, and not extorted by her fears, that Bayard replied —
" Well, madam, since you so earnestly desire it, I take it
for love of you ; but go and fetch your daughters, that I
may bid them farewell."

Overjoyed that she had thus attained her object, the lady
disappeared, and returned almost immediately with her
daughters. These virgins were arrived at womanhood,
and were exceeding comely to behold. They were ami-
able damsels, and had been well taught in the various arts

HOW APPROPRIATED. 271

which belong to women. They, as well as their mother,
had attended our knight during his sickness — had watched
beside him, and solaced his sadness and weariness with
those sweet attentions which none can bestow so well as
the gentle sex. They wrought with their needles beside
him, as he lay upon his couch, and sung to him songs of
chivalry, in which he took great delight, to the music
of lute and virginal, which they knew deftly how to finger.
They did not, therefore, come before him as strangers,
when they came to receive his adieus. Before they ap-
peared, however, Bayard had busied himself in dividing
the money which the mother had given him into three
parts, — two of a thousand crowns each, and the third of
the remaining five hundred. When they came, they threw
themselves on their knees before him, but he immediately
raised them. The mother said, " My lord, these two
maidens, who owe all that is dear to them in life to your
generosity, now come to declare their thanks and gratitude,
and to take leave of you. They, as well as I, shall be al-
ways bound to entreat the blessing of God upon your head."

The tears gathered in the eyes of Bayard, as he remem-
bered their kindness, and beheld their humility. " Dear
young maidens," said he, " it is I who have to return
thanks, and not you. How much do I owe you for the
solace of your sweet company, and most grateful atten-
tions ! I shall be your debtor as long as I live. Alas ! I
have no exquisite toys, such as become young ladies to re-
tain as tokens. We, men-at-arms, are not wont to be thus
provided. You must, therefore, suffer me to throw a
thousand of these crowns into each of your laps, which
your good mother hath been pleased to give me, and which
I bestow, as a marriage portion, upon you. From you I
ask nothing but your prayers in my behalf."

He threw the ducats into their aprons, in spite of all
their objections. The five hundred ducats he restored to
the mother, to be distributed in his name among the poor

272 THE GIFTS OF THE DAMSELS.

nuns of a convent which had suffered from the pillagers
when the city was taken. Then, touching their hands, after
the fashion of Italy, as a sign of leave-taking, he was about
to turn away, when they all again fell upon their knees
weeping bitterly. The matron then, with overflowing heart,
thus addressed him with an apostrophe which called the red
blood into his thin, pale cheeks : " Oh ! flower of all chival-
ry, with whom none living may compare, may our Blessed
Saviour and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, who suffered death and
passion for all sinners, reward you in this and the coming
life !" Here they all left him, but when he was about to
mount his steed, the two damsels came down to him, bring-
ing each a present which they had wrought for him during
his illness. One gave him an exquisite pair of bracelets,
delicately woven of gold and silver threads, and the other
a purse of crimson satin most curiously fashioned. The
bracelets he put upon his arms, the purse, as was the cus-
tom of knighthood, in his sleeve ; the more conspicuously to
do honor to the givers. These, he declared were more
precious to him than ten thousand crowns, and he prom-
ised to wear them while they lasted and while he lived.
The parting was a renewed scene of tenderness — of the
sweetest sympathies, which were treasured fondly by mu-
tual hearts, and precious to each as well because of their
purity as their fondness. Bayard left Brescia in company
with his friend the Lord d'Aubigny, who, with two or three
thousand other gentlemen who had been left in garrison,
was now about to join the army of the Duke de Nemours
then advancing upon Ravenna.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE army of the Duke cle Nemours had made its ap-
pearance before Ravenna the very day when Bayard reach-
ed the camp. His arrival was productive of as much pleas-
ure among the knights and captains as if they had received
a reinforcement of ten thousand men. The welcome of the
duke himself was such as made the full heart of Bayard
forget that he was feeble. He felt more happy at being in
the field, and once more among his ancient comrades, than
if he had suddenly come into possession of a kingdom.
Such is the language of the chronicler, who has written his
biography in an equal spirit of truth and fondness. It is
very certain that his fame was now so widely extended, and
of a kind so superior to that of most, if not all, of his con-
temporaries, that his very presence in the camp inspired
their foes with apprehension, while it armed his friends and
comrades with fresh confidence and zeal.

Arrived under the walls of Ravenna, the Duke de Ne-
mours at once assembled his captains for consultation. His
own nature demanded prompt action always, and his pres-
ent necessities seemed to require it. Provisions were be-
ginning to fail in camp. The Venetians on the one hand,
and the Spaniards on the other, were rapidly cutting off
his supplies and circumscribing the boundaries from
which they were drawn. Bread and wine were essential
in those days to an army in Italy, and the necessity of sub-
sisting on mere meat and cheese was supposed to be such
a hardship as might excuse impatience and discontent
among the troops, if not justify defection. There was yet
another matter which contributed to render it necessary

M*

274 JACOB ZEMBERG.

that Gaston de Foix should do quickly with his forces what-
ever he designed. We have seen that the Emperor Max-
imilian had been bought over from the cause of the French
by the money and the cunning of the Pope. Now, there
happened to be some five thousand German lansquenets in
the army of France, under the command of Jacob Zem-
berg and Philip of Friburg, both stout and excellent cap-
tains. To these, Maximilian had written, to retire from the
field, leaving the French to continue the warfare by them-
selves. One of these letters had been intercepted by the
Duke de Nemours ; and, with that lax moral which war and
the particular circumstances of the case appeared to justify,
ie had taken care that it should not reach the person to
\vhom it was addressed. But the letter for Captain Zem-
oerg came to that officer's hands. It so happened that
Zemberg was personally attached to the French. He had
visited France, had received some favors from the noblesse,
and probably from the king, whose policy it had been to
encourage the German and Swiss mercenaries ; and was
particularly fond, among other persons, of our good knight
Bayard. The intimacy between these two had been of
long growth and standing, having originated in the first ex-
pedition of our hero, with five or six hundred horse, against
Padua, when the emperor, with an army like that of Xerxes,
threatened to swallow up the fated city which he in vain be-
sieged. As soon as Zemberg received his letter from his
master, he hurried to the tent of our chevalier, to whom he
related the circumstance, stating the cause of his disquiet,
but giving Bayard to understand that his instructions had
not been seen by any person but himself. The contents re-
vealed, he was very sure that the greater number of the
lansquenets would refuse to fight, and retire to their homes
or to the enemy. For himself, he declared that he was de-
voted to the King of France — that he had received his pay,
and would rather perish by a thousand deaths than desert
his banners while they were waving in the face of his foes.

THE COUNCIL. 275

But how to manage his lansquenets — how to keep them
from a knowledge of the orders which he had received —
nay, would not other commands reach them, and of a more
imperative sort, such as would be fatal to himself, and which
none of them would dare to disobey 1 His difficulties were
freely declared to our good knight. Bayard seems to have
very well understood the moving principle among the na-
tions who in that day drove a mercenary trade in blood.
"My friend," said he, "you once gave me to understand
that you possess but little in Germany. Now, the King of
France is powerful and rich. He can reward with ease
and affluence those who serve him faithfully. He thinks
much of you, I am well assured. You are a favorite of his
already. His esteem for you will necessarily be augment-
ed when he understands how devoted you have been to his
interests. And he shall know it from me, God willing,
though all other tongues remain silent. But, come with
me to the lodginms of the duke. He hath summoned us to

O O

council. I will privately lay before him the matter which
you have shown me."

The council was by no means a harmonious one. There
was great diversity of opinion. There were some who
opposed themselves to risking every thing in a battle, in
which, if lost, the whole of Italy would be perilled, and
their own escape cut off — with three or four difficult
rivers to cross, and the forces of the Pope, of Spain, of
Venice, the emperor, and the Swiss — all combined for
their destruction. Their arguments were by no means
wanting in force, and they were felt by those who heard
them. In the mean time, Bayard had secretly communi-
cated to Gaston de Foix the intelligence conveyed by
Captain Zemberg. This showed the necessity of fighting
at once, before the requisition of Maximilian should be
known to his lansquenets, since any delay might endanger
the loss to the French of at least one third of the army. There

«/

was another impelling influence at work to render battle

276 BAYARD'S OPINIONS.

inevitable. Louis was threatened by invasion in two or
three quarters of his own dominions, and needed the succor
of his troops from Italy. Bayard was the counsellor who was
employed to reconcile the dissenting voices, and to disarm
the doubts and fears among the captains. In answer to a
question directly proposed to him by the duke (for it may
be observed of our " Good Knight" that he was seldom in a
hurry to thrust his opinions upon his associates), he replied
to the following effect :

" My lord, having but yesterday arrived, I know nothing
of the condition of our enemies. These gentle-men, who
have met and skirmished with them daily, and who know
much more than I can, are divided in opinion. Some are
for "giving, and some for avoiding battle. Since you arc
pleased to think that my opinions may be of some use in
the discussion, with all regard and reverence for your lord-
ship, and those who have already expressed themselves, I
will freely show you what I think. There is no doubt that
all engagements have their hazards. It behooves us,
therefore, to consider well before we involve ourselves in
action. But, as the case appears to stand at present,
between ourselves and the enemy, it seems to me the
battle is not to be avoided. We shall hardly be suffered
to depart without doing battle. Here you have already
made your approaches. To-morrow it is proposed that
you cannonade Ravenna, and, a breach being made, to
enter it by storm. Now, surely, we are all aware that the
activity of Marc Antonio Colonna hath at least been equal
to our own. He hath succeeded in throwing himself into
the place with a powerful body of fine troops, and hath
done so with a solemn assurance from Don Raymond de
Cardona, viceroy of Naples, and head of the hostile army —
of his own uncle, the Lord Fabrizio Colonna, together with
that of Count Pietro de Navarro, and of all the captains —
that, if he can hold out till to-morrow, or, at farthest, till
Easter-day, they will succor and relieve him. Now, it is

BAYARD'S PHILOSOPHY. 277

very certain that these gentlemen mean to make their
promises good. They are already close upon us, and in
all their force. Now, suppose we seek to avoid this battle,
what shall we gain by the delay 1 Let us see. Our con-
dition just now is bad enough. Our troops are almost
without food. Our horses are obliged to subsist on the
shoots of willows. The longer we stay, the less will be
our sustenance — the more calamitous our situation. This
should be consideration enough to move us to the action.
But when, in addition, we know the peril in which the
king our master stands at this moment — what his wishes
are, and what his necessities — how he urges us to give
battle, and how he shows us that it is not merely the
safety of the duchy of Milan, but that of the whole realm
of France which is now menaced by the enemy — it seems
to me that we can not doubt of the necessity for action
which is before us. We must fight, and fight discreetly,
as well as fearlessly. We have to deal with a crafty
people, who are good soldiers also. That we shall incur
great danger is very true. But there is one thing which
gives me heart in spite of all discouraging circumstances.
It is this. These Spaniards have now been living for
a whole year in Romagna on the fat of the land — living, I
may say, in clover — and have grown luxurious, and fond
of ease. They are pursy and proud, and greatly encum-
bered with fat. We, on the contrary, have been forced
to live on what we could catch — on scanty fare, which is
still our only resource. By reason of this sort of diet —
this forced abstinence — we shall be in better wind for the
conflict — we shall be longer-breathed — and this is what we
most want in such a struggle as the one before us ; for it is
very certain that it is that party who can longest hold on
in battle by whom the day is to be won."

Bayard usually dressed up his counsel with pleasantry,
in moments when the prospect seemed gloomy before his
companions. They laughed heartily at his philosophy, and

A A

278 THE ASSAULT UPON RAVENNA.

in their merriment the danger was somewhat lessened in
the eyes of those who, before, had been disposed to shrink
from the encounter. His reasoning was undoubtedly cor-
rect. Had the French, half-starved as they were, avoided
the conflict, and shewn any disposition to acknowledge the
superiority of their enemies, the morale of their army
would have been endangered. A retreat never helps the
courage of troops, who are already suffering from starva-
tion. The lords of Lautrec, de la Palisse, the Grand
Seneschal of Normandy, and, indeed, the great majority,
concurred with Bayard in the necessity of giving battle,
and such was the final decision. The next day, the pow-
erful artillery of the Duke of Ferrara, always irresistible,
opened upon the walls of Ravenna. A breach was soon
effected, which the impatience of the French, anxious to
achieve the conquest of the city before the allies could re-
lieve it, hastened to penetrate. A force, consisting of two
hundred gens d'arms, and three thousand foot, were ordered
to the assault, and advanced gallantly toward the breach,
with the gay demeanor of a bridal party. They mounted
the crumbling battlements, when a terrible hand-to-hand
conflict took place upon the ramparts. For four mortal
hours the attack was persevered in, at an awful expense of
life. If the assailants played their parts with an elastic
and enthusiastic courage, that never dreamed of peril, the
defenders as gallantly maintained their defence, with a
hardihood as resolute as that with which they were assailed.
Marc Antonio Colonna had placed his best men upon the
threshold, and this was quite too small to enable the
French to assail them with adequate numbers. Cheered
with the conviction of their strength, of the advantages un-
der which they fought, and of the rapid approach of the
allies, the courage of the garrison grew with the pressure
from without. The French, after five or six glorious efforts,
were compelled to relinquish the assault, and to retire
from the breach, in which more than fifteen hundred men,

BAFFLED. 279

of both parties, had already perished. When the facts in
their condition were all known, they drew consolation from
their own defeat. The sound of their cannon had reached
the camp of the allied forces. The danger to Ravenna
compelled them to abandon the temporizing policy which
had governed their leaders so long, and forced them to
risk a pitched battle, in which their stakes were quite as
great as those of the enemy, from whom their recent policy
had cut off both provisions and retreat. Had the French
obtained possession of Ravenna, by assault, the sack would
have left them in no condition to meet the enemy without ;
and when Gaston de Foix drew off his soldiers from the
walls, the former had advanced their camp to within three
miles of that of France. But for this near approach of the
foe, the assault upon Ravenna would have been renewed, and
must in the end have been successful. It was impossible
now to persevere, while an army, fully equal in number to
his own, lay ready to seize the first opportunity for a favor-
able attack. His situation was critical. The battle was
now inevitable, as Bayard had foreseen ; and the only hope
of the Duke de Nemours was in assailing the enemy in his
trenches, and forcing him to a general engagement.

The night of the day when the attempt was made upon
the city, many of the chiefs of the French army were
assembled at the lodgings of their general. After supper,
discoursing of the events of the action, the duke turning to
Bayard remarked, — " My Lord Bayard, before you reach-
ed the camp, the Spaniards were continually inquiring
after you of our people. They seem, from what I can
hear, to have a very high notion of your prowess. Now,
if it seem good to you, who have long known their ways of
fighting, I would advise that you go forth and skirmish
with them to-morrow. Compel them, if possible, to join
battle with you, that we may see what sort of show they
make."

The object was reconnaissance. It was important to

280 THE BARON OF BEARN.

feel the foe, to sound his spirit, ascertain his strength, and
see properly how it was arrayed, in advance of the main
attempt which had already been resolved upon. Bayard,
who was ambitious of nothing better at that moment
than such an enterprise, answered, with spirit and prompt-
ness,

" With God's blessing, my lord, I shall take so close
a look at them, ere mid-day to-morrow, that I shall bring
back all about them which you may desire to know."

There happened to be present when this suggestion was
made and answered, a certain Baron of Beam, one of the
duke's lieutenants, a bold knight, who loved a skirmish
quite as well as any of his neighbors. He was probably
somewhat piqued at the application made to Bayard only;
and, in evil hour, he resolved within himself that the
" Good Knight" must be in stirrup very early, if he hoped
to take the field before himself. Secretly assembling a
party of his friends and followers, he made his arrange-
ments for setting forth before break of day ; and did set
forth, seeking the enemy's entrenchments, long in advance
of our hero; who, suspecting nothing of this adventure, took
his own course, and, as soon as he had left the duke, called
his chief followers together. These were his lieutenant,
Captain Pierrepont, his ensign, his guidon, and some others
of his company. To these he unfolded his plans as fol-
lows : — " I have promised, gentlemen, that we shall recon-
noitre the enemy to-morrow, and get certain information
in regard to them. The affair is one to be conducted in
such a manner as will bring us credit. My purpose is to
take the whole command, and to display the banners
of the Duke of Lorraine, which the enemy have never
seen. They may bring us good luck, and will be more
cheering than the sound of cornets. To you, Du Fay" —
addressing the standard-bearer — " I assign fifty archers.
With these you will pass the canal below the artillery of
the Spaniards, and, as far as you can, stir up an alarm in

II E STIRS UP THE SPANIARDS. 281

their camp. When you see that it is prudent to retire,
you will run no risk in doing so, supported, as you \vill
be, by Captain Pierrepont, who, with thirty-six horse and
the rest of the archers, will be at your rear. He will sup-
port you, with the rest of the company. I will be at hand
to see that you are not too hard pressed. Manage the
affair with caution, and I pledge you that we shall all gain
credit by the result."

Having no field-plans, we must suppose that the scheme
was one implying some nice stratagem. His officers per-
fectly understood him, and each knew the part which was
assigned him. We must not forget to remind the reader,
as the old chronicler frequently reminds us, that there was
not one of Bayard's gendarms who was not fit himself to
be a captain. Their plans did not keep any of them from
sleep that night. Retiring, as soon as their arrangements
were made, they were all ready by the dawn of day, when
they armed and accoutred themselves. The colors of the
Duke of Lorraine were unfurled, for the first time, to the
breezes of Ravenna — " a goodly spectacle, which greatly
cheered the hearts of the company." They began their
march, as previously determined, in three separate bands,
each, at a distance from the other, of three moderate bow-
shots. Never a bit did any of our good knight's party
dream that the adventurous young Baron of Beam had got
the start of them, snuffing the breezes of battle and the
morning together, in advance of themselves. They were
soon, however, to partake in the game which this young
gentleman had so gallantly begun. He had gone forth
right valiantly, and succeeded in stirring up a delightful
alarm in the camp of the Spaniards. Foot and horse were
arranged for battle, and the artillerists, a little more rapid
than any other arm of the service, had despatched certain
bullets of rock into the ranks of the baron's party, which
took off an arm of the Chevalier Basillac, a favorite of the
Duke de Nemours, as cleverly as a surgeon could have

A A*

A A

282 BAYARD'S SHARE IN THE GAME.

done. These shots were seconded by a rush of the Span-
ish and Neapolitan gendarms, before which our Baron de
Beam thought it only prudent to retire. But his walk
soon became a trot, and then a gallop ; and even the head-
long race, under the spur of sauve qui peut, would scarcely
have sufficed for the safety of the party, but for the timely
coming of the Bastard Du Fay, who interposed his squadron
between the fugitives and the pursuers. Bayard, apprised
of the luckless adventure of the baron, and of the approach
of the Spaniards, soon brought his force up to co-operation
with that of Du Fay, but without exposing himself to the
cognizance of the enemy. It was with no qualified pleas-
ure that he beheld them urging the headlong chase, until
they had fairly crossed the canal which separated them
wholly from the support of the camp. Then it was that,
putting lance in rest, and plying the steed with the rowel,
he cried aloud to his followers to charge the assailants.
The fugitives fell into his rear, while he, never looking to
see whether he was or was not supported — taking that for
granted, as well he might in consideration of the love borne
him by his followers — darted fiercely at once into the very
centre of the enemy's squadron, consisting of an hundred
horse and more, overthrowing five or six of them at the
first encounter. The Spaniards fought well but vainly,
and at length fairly wheeled about and fled for the camp,
which was now every where in commotion and alarm, the
whole army being drawn up in order of battle. Never
heeding their gallant array, except to note its aspect ac-
curately for the benefit of his general, Bayard continued
to drive the party which he had defeated, before him, until
they had fairly crossed the canal and entered the camp.
Here, as if in the very wantonness of his defiance, he and
his company exhibited prodigies of valor, overthrowing all
who encountered them, and tumbling not a few of the tents
and pavilions of the luxurious Spaniards into the dust. It
was only when the vigilant eyes of our good knight beheld

HIS SUCCESS. 283

a troop of three hundred gendarms, close ranged for fight,
and hurrying toward him at a quick trot, that he gave orders
for the retreat. They repassed the canal without the loss
of a man. The Spaniards did not pursue them, though five
or six of them, in a spirit of chivalry, proposed to break a
lance with an equal number of Frenchmen. But, thinking
it would bring on another skirmish, in which his men, heat-
ed and exhausted, would be required to €ope with fresh
soldiers, Bayard would not suffer one of his people to com-
ply with the wishes of the challengers. The Duke of
Nemours already knew what had taken place. Greatly
grieved for Basillac's misfortune, he embraced Bayard as
he returned to the camp, saying to him, " You, and such
as you only, my Lord of Bayard, are fit to head the skir-
mishers. You can both go and return with discretion."
Those who beheld the prowess of our knight, in this rude
encounter with the Spaniards at once acknowledged they
had never seen one who understood war so well, or met
its dangers with such feats of arms. But this spirited af-
fair was one to sink into insignificance in regard to that
which was at hand. It was a taste, only preparatory to one,
which French and Spaniards had equal reason to deplore
for several seasons after

CHAPTER XXVI.

IT was not to inquire whether a battle was to be fought,
but 7ww it was to be fought, that, after this reconnaissance
of Bayard, Gaston de Foix called his officers again to
council. The skirmish of the good knight with the Span-
iards had not only enabled him to see somewhat into their
arrangements, but had revealed the spirit with which they
would be likely to meet the final issue. The very fat
feeding to which Bayard had alluded, and which he sup-
posed might render his enemies scant of breath in the
action, would yet, of itself, furnish sufficient impulse to
make them eager for the excitements of the strife. To
infuse his own people with the proper spirit, and to plan
the mode of attack, — for the French general was resolved
upon taking the initiate steps in the business, — was the
subject matter of the conference in which we find our
good knight once more counselling the mode of procedure,
with the satisfaction of finding his opinions adopted by the
rest. His discoveries of the morning, in the camp of the
Spaniards, and his views of what should be done by the
assailants, in great measure determined the order for the
attack, which was arranged for the ensuing day, being
Easter Sunday. That night a bridge of boats was thrown
across the river Ronco for the passage of the infantry
and artillery, the esplanades on either bank being
such as to enable the horse to ford the stream with-
out assistance. The keeping of this bridge was assigned
to the Bastard Du Fay, the standard-bearer of our
knight. The council separated for the night, each having
his post assigned him, and all properly impressed with the

THE RIVAL ARMIES. 285

duties and. the dangers which awaited them on the ensuing
day.

This memorable day, in which the flower of both armies
was destined to perish, dawned at last, the eleventh of
April, 1512. Conspicuous among the leaders, on each
side, were men distinguished as the legates of the most
high God. Clad in complete armor, towering in his pride
of place, full of a wrathful and imperious spirit, and of
martial and imposing aspect, the Cardinal Sanseverino,
legate of the council of Milan, marched among the captains
of the French. On the other side, the Cardinal cle Medici,
as legate of the Church, held the chief authority in the
allied army. His aspect was more peaceful, whatever
his spirit might have been. He still, though at the head
of a warlike array, appeared in the habiliments of peace ;
to which, indeed, his temper naturally inclined much more
than that of his brother cardinal. The Spanish troops, on
whom the allies placed their chief reliance, were led by
the Viceroy Cardona, the Italians by Fabrizio Colonna;
and the command of the light-armed cavalry was entrusted
to the young and accomplished Ferdinando Davalos, mar-
quis of Pescara. On the French side, the lansquenets and
foot-soldiers, to the number of six thousand, were led by
the several captains Molart, Bonnet, Maugiron, the- Baron
de Grammont, and others ; and this force, with two thou-
sand Gascons under the immediate command of Captain
Odet, and the Cadet Duras, were instructed to take post
within cannon-shot of the enemy's camp, which they were
to watch, availing themselves of every movement to ply
them with the artillery, by which they were to be accom-
panied. The vanguard was commanded by the Duke of
Ferrara and Jacques de Chabannes, lord de la Palisse,
with their companions. With these came the gentlemen
under the Grand Seneschal of Normandy, the Master
of the Horse, the Lord of Humbercourt, La Crote, the
Lord Theodore de Trivulzio, and other captains, with

286 THE PREDICTION.

some eight hundred gendarms. With the command of the
Duke de Nemours, himself, were associated his cousin,
the Lord of Lautrec, D'Alegre, Captain Louis d'Ars, and
Bayard, with a force of four or five hundred horse. The
Italian infantry, to the number of four thousand, were left
in charge of the camp before Ravenna, for the double pur-
pose of insuring the safety of the baggage, arid of prevent-
ing any sallies from the forces within the city.

With the opening of the day the French army was in
motion. The Duke de Nemours left his tent among the
first, armed at all points, but without his helmet, which,
before the necessity for its use, was probably carried by a
page. He wore a most gorgeous dress, exceeding heavy,
and richly embroidered with the arms of Navarre and

V

France. Looking out upon the horizon, he remarked
that the sun, which was just risen, wore a red and fiery
appearance. One of his gentlemen, named Haubordouin,
of whom he was very fond, remarking this appearance also,
said to him, " Know you what this bodes, my lord 1 — the
death of some great prince or captain to-day. It must be
either you or the viceroy (Cardona)." Gaston de Foix
gayly laughed at the prediction, and rode away to the
bridge of boats, over which his army "was then crossing; but
his men remembered at this moment the predictions and
warning which were given to Chabannes and Bayard by
the astrologer of Carpi, and his intimations that the day of
greatest danger to the duke would be this very Easter
Sunday. After this comment of Haubordouin, which a
modem captain would think exceedingly mistimed at the
moment when an engagement was drawing on, another
instance of the naivete of chivalry took place, which our
chronicler has deemed it worthy to preserve. While the
Duke de Nemours was inspecting the passage of his troops,
Bayard approached him, and said, "My lord, while the
forces are crossing the river, let us divert ourselves by a
stroll along its banks." Gaston agreed to this ; and he,

CHIVALIUC cor KYI:.- 1 1:. 287

Bayard, Lautrec, Alegre, and some others, to the number
of twenty horse, pursued a course along the edge of the
river, on the opposite side of which they could distinctly
perceive the confusion and preparation in the camp of the
allies. While they walked, the duke remarked, " My Lord
of Bayard, we present an admirable mark for any arque-
busiers that might be concealed on the other side. They
might shoot us where we are with the greatest ease."
Just then a troop of twenty or thirty Spanish knights
appeared on horseback, among whom was Don Pedro Paz,
a distinguished cavalier among them, of whom something
has been said in our pages already, and who was the
leader of all their horse. Bayard, seeing them, advanced
some twenty or thirty paces before his companions, and
addressed the Spaniards in the following fashion across the
stream : " You are amusing yourselves for the present,
gentlemen, and so are we. I pray you, therefore, that,
until our sports fairly begin, you discharge no guns from
your side, and we will trouble you with none of ours."
Don Pedro, as king the name of the person by whom he was
addressed, and being told that it was Captain Bayard, was
marvellously delighted, and answered him thus : " On my
honor, my Lord of Bayard, though T know that we gain
nothing by your presence here, but, on the contrary, hold
your force to be the stronger thereby, by some two thou-
sand men, nevertheless I am right glad to see you. Would
to God there were peace between your king and mine,
that we might know more of each other, for I have loved
you for your prowess all my life." Bayard, who was
never surpassed in courtesy by any man, answered the
Spaniard in a strain of similar compliment, which he
might wrell do, as Don Pedro, though something of a
dwarf, had a most noble and gigantic spirit in a rude and
contracted bosom. The latter, seeing the distinction with
which all parties joined to treat the Duke de Nemours,
asked, " Who is that nobleman, my Lord of Bayard,

288 THE LORD OF MOLART.

to whom your people pay so much honor V " He is our
commander-in-chief," replied the knight, "the Duke de
Nemours, nephew to our prince, and brother to your
queen." Scarcely had he spoken when Don Pedro and all
his knights dismounted, and, addressing De Foix, said,
" Lord Duke, saving what is due to the honor and the
service of the king our master, we declare to you that we
are, and always will remain, your servants." We still
retain some of the stately and artificial courtesies, which
originated in those periods, in which the struggle between
ferocity and civilization engendered many peculiarities
of conduct between friends and foes, which we can only
comprehend, now, by a due regard to the conventional
strife of castes and classes which belongs to every transition
period in society. The Duke de Nemours acknowledged,
in similar terms, the complimentary address of the Span-
iards ; and the parties, thus really full of respect and
admiration for each other, separated to engage in the
deadliest struggles of a mortal combat. This little episode
will serve to illustrate some of the characteristics of that
school of civilization which chivalry founded, and which,
at the period of which we write, was dying out rapidly,
chiefly in consequence of the progress of commerce and
the use of gunpowder.

The German lansquenets in the French army were the
first to occupy the bridge in passing. The adventurers, a
motley crowd, under the command of the Lord of Molart,
impatient of being in the advance, readily yielded to his
suggestion when he cried to them, " What ! comrades, shall
the lansquenets lead us to the enemy] I would rather lose
an eye than we should submit to this reproach. Follow
me !" and, armed as he was, he dashed on foot into the riv-
er wading gallantly through in advance of the Germans.
The passage of the whole army was safely made, the allies
offering no obstruction ; and, relying on the obvious design
of the French to force their camp, which they had laid out

THE CANNONADE. 289

judiciously, and had strengthened, as far as possible, \viih
all the appliances of art. Their forbearance came from the
counsel of Pietro de Navarro, who had great reputation as
an engineer, and who earnestly recommended that the army
should remain in its entrenchments and should trust for
success in the first instance to the artillery, which had been
advantageously posted in front of their ranks. Fabrizio
Colonna alone opposed this advice. He counselled more
wisely, as the sequel would seem to show, that the assail-
ants should be met while crossing the river, and attacked
as they approached in detached bodies. But the advice of
the Spaniard prevailed. The French were permitted to
pass the river, and to approach unmolested within a short
distance of the allied camp, where they formed their line,
and having spread out their artillery in front, opened upon
the entrenchments of the allies with a tremendous cannon-
ade. This was answered fiercely by the batteries of Pietro
Navarro, which brought terrible havoc upon the exposed
infantry of the French, having played freely upon them
during their advance. More than two thousand of these
devoted people fell early in the action. The valiant cap-
tain, the Lord of Molart, whom we have seen so eager
to get ahead of the Germans, fell by the same cannon-shot
which slew Philip de Friburg, one of the chiefs of the lans-
quenets. The Spanish infantry, meanwhile, lying flat be-
hind their entrenchments, escaped, in some degree, that
fearful havoc which their artillery had produced among the
French. Their pieces were twenty in number, cannon and
long culverins, and they had about two hundred arquebusses-
a-croc, which seem to have been heavy hand-guns worked
upon a rest or pivot. The intervals between their guns
they had occupied with a sort of armed cart or wagon, on
two wheels, to be worked by the hand, which were barbed
on all sides with spears of three prongs. These carts were
to be rolled forward upon the foot-soldiers whenever they
advanced to the assault. At their win or was the vanguard.

O O *

BB

290 FABRIZIO COLONNA.

consisting of eight hundred gendarms, commanded by Fa-
brizio Colonna. The viceroy, Cardona, stationed above
this force, had with him four hundred horse and about two
thousand Italian foot. The horse was spoken of as being
of the first order, as well in their experience and courage
as in their equipment. Thus formidably entrenched and
supported, with all the advantages of fighting from an en-
trenched camp, upon an advancing and unprotected foe,
the day appeared to be going against the assailants ; when
its aspect was changed by the artillery of the Duke of Fer-
rara, who, having obtained an advantageous position, by
which the entrenchments were commanded, now tore his
way with his iron messengers through the flanks of the
allied army. For two dreadful hours had this cannonade
continued, when the mingled slaughter of men and horses,
who fell without a struggle, without an opportunity of re-
sistance, stung Fabrizio Colonna with fury. His men, mad-
dened by the murderous discharges, were no longer restrain -
able. " Cuerpo de Dios /" was their cry ; " Somos matados
del cielo" — " we are slain as from the sky;" " Vamos com-
bater los hombres" — "let us go forth and fight with men !"
The passionate resolution which they expressed was that
of Colonna. Bitterly denouncing the policy which had gov-
erned the Spanish generals, he rushed from the entrench-
ments, and was followed with more or less rapidity by all
the allies. As the van of his gendarms appeared in sight,
the keen eyes of Bayard and D'Alegre immediately beheld
the danger to which they lay open, and bringing up a cou-
ple of pieces of artillery, to a point by which their approach
was commanded, swept the track with bullets, mowing down,
in successive discharges, more than three hundred of the
advancing troop. Thirty-three men were swept away by a
single cannon-shot. This brought on a general action. The
force led by Fabrizio Colonna, avoiding the vanguard of
the French, which was commanded by the Duke of Ferrara
and Chabannes, lord de la Palisse, made for a little squad-

STKIFK UF HOKSI:MK\.

ron of French horse which surrounded the Duke of Ne-
mours in person. This prince commanded in the centre.
Seeing the approach of the Spanish horse, though nearly
t \vice the number of his own, he lowered his visor and ad-
vanced to meet them. As the Italian captain approached, he
divided his force into two bodies, in order the more com-
pletely to enclose the smaller body of the French. Bayard
perceiving this, counselled the duke to make a like division
of his force, by which both parties of the Spaniards should be
encountered at the same moment. This advice was promptly
followed, and the Spaniards rushed on with a shout, crying
to each other as they approached, " Espana ! Espaiia !
Santiago ! a los caballos ! a los caballos /" — " Spain and St.
James ! upon the horses ! upon the horses !" In other
words, according to a Spanish proverb, " Muerto de cabal-
lo, perdido Vhoinbre d'armas" — Slay the horses — " When
the horse is dead, the horseman is sped." We have not
forgot the effect of this policy in the famous duel, already
recorded in these pages, of thirteen against thirteen. The
shock was terrible between these parties. The Spanish
cavalry under Fabrizio Colonna, nearly half as many again
as that under the prince, continued the fight for more than
half an hour, and still the result was doubtful. Seeing this,
D'Alegre, who spied at distance the band of Robert de la
Marck, whose uniform was black and white, cried to them
with a loud voice, " Black and white, march ! march ! and
bring up the archers !" These, well knowing that the matter
was pressing, or such a summons would never be made, at
once hurried to the rescue, and at once decided the event
in this part of the field. The archers, with the small hatch-
ets which they earned at their saddle-bows, dealt very rude-
ly with the Spanish cavalry, and the Lord Fabrizio Colon-
na was compelled to retreat, retiring in great disorder and
after heavy loss, more than four hundred of his gendarms
being left between the fosse of his entrenchments and the
river.

292 GASTON DE FOIX.

Mean \vnile, the action had every where become general.
The shock of battle in every part of the field had proved
equally bloody with that to which we have chiefly confined
our attention. The hostile encounter of two such armies,
enflamed by national enmity and mutual resentments — stung
by a protracted endurance of loss from the opposing artil-
lery, which could not be met — and exasperated to the high-
est degree by the preceding events of a fierce and capricious
warfare, was necessarily of a kind the most terrible and
destructive. Never, says the chronicler, was seen a more
desperate conflict ; but the Spaniards at length yielded, and
fled for their entrenchments. The French were about to
pursue, but they were arrested by Bayard, who stayed
them. He approached the Duke de Nemours to exhort
him to forbearance at this moment, in regard to the Spanish
infantry, who still lay concealed behind their entrench-
ments. Seeing the duke covered with the blood and
brains of a knight who had been slain at his side by a can-
non-shot, he feared that he had been wounded. " No ; but
1 have wounded many others !" cried the exulting prince, —
the rapture of the strife still glowing in every eager feature
of his face. " Now, God be praised!" cried Bayard, "for
the battle is yours — your fame is sure — you have covered
yourself this day with glory. But you must proceed no
farther, my lord. Assemble your cavalry in this place, that
they may not begin to plunder the carnp before we are yet
sure of it. Captain Louis d'Ars and myself will pursue
the fugitives, so that they shall not retire behind the foot-
soldiers. Meanwhile, my lord, do you stir not hence for
any man living, till the said captain or myself come to fetch
you !" We may justly suppose that Bayard was not
wholly uninfluenced by the counsel which had been given
him, in regard to the safety of the duke, by the astrologer
at Carpi. Gaston de Foix was neither too proud nor too
vain to hearken to the advice of a soldier so experienced.
He promised compliance with the counsels of our knight ;

HIS VICTORY AND DEATH. 293

but it would appear that he was not in this manner to
elude his fate. He suffered himself to forget his resolution,
and he paid for his error with his life.

The Spanish infantry, under Pietro Navarro, still kept
their ground behind the entrenchments. They were above
four thousand in number, and the policy of Bayard was so
wholly to isolate them from their cavalry, as to make it easy
to take them at disadvantage hereafter. This would have
been almost a matter of certainty. The pursuit of the fugi-
tives placed all the chief men of the allies in their power.
Among the prisoners were the Cardinal Legate de Medici,
Fabrizio Colonna, the Marquis of Pescara, and many
others ; and, subsequently, Pietro de Navarro was himself
added to the list. The farther particulars of the fight, by
which this plan was discarded, and the glory of the victory
rendered gloomy, by the disastrous losses of the French,
are differently told by the historians. It would seem that
an unwise attempt upon the Spanish foot, who were retiring
in good order, together with the premature excesses of
some of the French adventurers, who grew busy with the
wine-casks of the Spaniards, before the latter had fairly
left them, led to some small reverses, which were greatly
exaggerated in the ears of the Duke de Nemours. At all
events, he was prompted to desert the spot where Bayard
had left him in safety, and, with but a thousand horse, to
throw himself across the path of a body of the Spaniards,
consisting of three thousand infantry. At first, his fierce
assault was successful, and he made terrible havoc amonjr

o

his enemies ; but the shot of an arquebuse at length brought
him to the ground, where he was immediately surrounded
by foes, who fell upon him with their pikes, and slew him
with innumerable wounds. Thus perished, by an untimely
fate, at the early age of twenty-four, one of the most dis-
tinguished of French heroes. His fate damped the ardor
of his countrymen, and more than compensated the allies
for the terrible defeat which they had sustained. The

E K*

294 ITS HEAVY LOSSES.

French confess to a loss of three or four thousand men,
chiefly infantry. The Italian historians make their losses
more than ten thousand. Of the allies, upwards of nine
thousand lay upon the field. All their standards, equipage,
artillery, and numerous prisoners, distinguished and obscure,
fell into the hands of their enemies. The Viceroy Car-
dona effected his escape to Cesena. Among those who
perished on the side of the French were many whose
names have been made familiar to us in the progress of
this history. After the death of the Duke de Nemours,
they lamented in particular the fate of Ino d'Allegri, and
his son Viverot ; Zemberg and Friburg, the leaders of the
German lansquenets ; the Baron de Grammont, Maugiron,
Bardasson, Monsacre, Captain Molart, La Crope-Daillon,
Auber, and many others. Lautrec received twenty wounds
in defending the Duke de Nemours, was left for dead
upon the field, but finally recovered. The victory was a
great one, but dearly paid for.

CHAPTER XXVII.

IT was late in the day before Bayard returned from the
pursuit of the fugitives, and bitterly did he deplore the
fate of his friend and commander which his prudence had
labored to avert. His biographer, the " Loyal Servant,"
describes him, on his return to the camp and before he
had learned the death of the Duke de Nemours, as meet-
ing with a portion of the retreating infantry of the allies,
in the midst of whom the duke had fallen. Bayard, at
this moment, had with him but thirty or forty gendarms, all
of whom were marvellously spent and weary. Still he pre-
pared to charge the enemy, who was retiring in good
order ; when one of the captains, advancing at the head of
his men, cried to him, " Sir, what is it that you would do ]
You can not, surely, suppose yourself strong enough to
conquer us. Be satisfied with what is already done. ¥" ou
have won the battle. You have killed or scattered our

293 BAYARD'S LETTEK

main army. Be content with the honor you have gained,
and since, by God's mercy, we have escaped so far, suffer
us to go with our lives." Bayard felt the good sense of
what the Spaniard had advanced, and, with scarcely a horse
fit to stand upon his legs, he was satisfied to receive the
colors of the enemy, and to suffer them to depart in peace.
Alas! exclaims the chronicler, had he but known that the
Duke de Nemours was slain, and by these very men, he
would have died ten thousand deaths sooner than have
left him unavenged. A letter of Bayard to his uncle,
Laurent Alleman, describing this battle of Ravenna, has
been preserved.* Its details may serve to supply some of
the omissions in our narrative. He writes : —

" My lord, I commend myself, with all possible humility,
to your good favor.

" My lord, since I last wrote you, we have had a battle
with the enemy, as, by this time, the tidings may have
reached you. The events, fully to acquaint you of them,
happened after this manner :

" Our army drew nigh and lodged hard by the city of
Ravenna. Hither our enemies repaired, almost as soon as
ourselves, to put the inhabitants in heart. Now, by reason
of some rumors, which increased daily in the camp, touch-
ing a descent of the Swiss, and in consequence of the great
lack of provisions which we experienced, my Lord of Ne-
mours resolved to give them battle. Last Sunday, accord-
ingly, we passed a little river which separated us from our
enemies and engaged them. They marched out in very
good order, and consisted of seventeen hundred horse, the
most glorious and splendid that ever were seen, and full
fourteen thousand foot, as gallant soldiers as could be met
with. About a thousand of their cavaliers,t enraged at
being so galled as they were by our artillery, rushed upon
our middle squadron, where the Duke de Nemours was in

* By the President Expilly.

f The cavalry under Fabrizio Cnlonna.

DESCRIBING THE BATTLE. 297

person, together with his company, that of the Duke of
Lorraine, of Louis d'Ars, and others,* to the number of
four hundred horse, or thereabouts, t who received the foe
with so stout a heart that better fighting never was beheld.
Between our vanguard — which consisted of a thousand
gendarme — and ourselves, there were great ditches, and,
even were these no impediments, they had enough to do
elsewhere, and could render us no assistance ; where-
fore, the said middle squadron was forced to bear the
brunt of a thousand men. At this juncture my Lord of
Nemours broke his lance betwixt the two battalions, pierc-
ing one of the enemy's gendarms through the body, the
weapon appearing half an arm's length on the opposite
side. Thus were the said thousand men defeated and put
to flight, and, as we were pressing upon them in pursuit,
we fell in with their infantry close by their ordnance, with
five or six hundred gendarms, who were posted there, hav-
ing in front of them two wheeled carts, whereon was a
great piece of iron, with two planks ten or fifteen feet long.
These troops soon came to close fighting with our infantry.
Their foot above mentioned had so many arquebusiers
that they killed, in a manner, nearly all our captains of foot
almost as soon as they approached, instead of staggering
them or putting them to flight. But our foot were so well
supported by the cavalry that, after an obstinate contest,
our adversaries were discomfited, lost their artillery, seven
or eight hundred of their horse, who were slain, and most
of their captains, with seven or eight thousand foot-soldiers.
It is not known that any of their leaders escaped except
the viceroy. We have prisoners of them — the Lord Fabri-
zio Colonna, the Cardinal de Medicis, the Pope's legate,
the Lord Pedro Navarro, the Marquis of Pescara, Don
Juan de Cardona, and others, whose names I know not.

* He is silent in regard to himself.

t A portion of this body of gendarms were detached to hold the bridge
under the Bastard Du Fay : hence its smallness.

N*

298 LETTER CONTINUED.

The fugitives who escaped were pursued for eight or ten
miles, and are scattered among the mountains, where, it
is said, the peasantry have cut them in pieces.

" My lord, if the king hath won this battle, I swear to
you that the poor gentlemen have lost it ; for, while we
were engaged in the pursuit, the Duke of Nemours, falling
in with some foot-soldiers who had rallied, chose to attack
them ; but the gentle prince was so ill supported that he
fell in the fray, whereat the sorrow and mourning that hath
been and is still displayed in our camp, is such as hath
never been equalled. You would think, indeed, could you
behold our grief, that the battle had been lost instead
of \von. No prince's death, for an hundred years, hath
been so great a calamity as this.* Had he but lived, he
would have done such things as prince never achieved
before. All here declare themselves as if they had lost a
father. As for me, my lord, I suffer more than I am able
to express, and shall henceforth lead a melancholy life.

" My lord, in other places fell M. d'Alegre and his son, M.
de Molart,six German captains, among them Zemberg, their
colonel; Captain Maugiron, the Baron de Grandmont, and
above two hundred gentlemen, all of name and reputation,
not to mention two thousand of our foot-soldiers. The
kingdom of France will not for a century repair the losses
which we have sustained in this action.

" My lord, the body of the late duke was yesterday
morning carried to Milan,t under an escort of two hundred

* The memory of Gaston de Foix was held in great esteem, and his death
lamented even by the Italians themselves. He has been accused of acts of
barbarity in his conquests ; but these are rather chargeable to the times than
the individual, and many were committed by those under his command
whom he had not the power to restrain.

t The body of the Duke de Nemours was conveyed in great state to
Milan, attended not only by the gens cl'arms, as above stated, and the flags of
conquest, but by the prisoners taken in the battle. The inhabitants of the
city came forth in deep mourning to receive it ; and amid the blaze of a
thousand torches it was deposited in the consecrated vaults of the cathedral.
But there it was not suffered to remain. When, subsequently, the French

MASSACRE AT RA \ Jl.VN A. 209

gens d'arms, in the most honorable mariner that could be
devised. Eighteen or twenty banners gloriously gained in
this battle Were borne before the corse. Now that he is
laid low, I believe that we shall cease from warfare. The
Swiss, however, are still making some clamor; but when
they hear of this defeat, they will, methinks, abate some-
what of their ardor. As soon as matters are fairly adjust-
ed here, I shall come and see you. Praying God to give
your lordship a very long and happy life,

"I am vour humble servant,

v

" BAYARD.
"Written at the Camp of Ravenna, this 14th day of April."

The battle of Ravenna gained, the victorious army
returned to the siege of the city. Marc Antonio Colonna,
despairing of the defence of the place, withdrew his forces
into the citadel, where he defended himself for a few days,

V

at the expiration of which time he was suffered to quit the
city, under a pledge not to bear arms against France for the
period of three months. The city was left to make its own
terms, and, while a deputation of the inhabitants were
arranging with the commander of the French the terms
of its surrender, a party of Gascons and lansquenets forced
their way through the breaches, and a terrible slaughter
ensued of the inhabitants. The chief command of the
French had devolved on Chabannes, the sieur de la Palisse.
It was some time before he was advised of the enormities
of his mercenaries. In the mean time, the massacre had
become indiscriminate, without regarding age or sex.
Even the monasteries on this occasion afforded no security
to the unhappy wretches who had hitherto found shelter in

were expelled from Milan, the Cardinal of Sion ordered it to be disinterred,
as the remains of an excommunicated person, and sent for private burial to
the church of the monastery of St. Martha. On the recovery of Milan by
the French, in 1515, a magnificent tomb was raised to his memory, the mon-
ument, surmounted by a statue of De Foix, as large as life, in marble, sur-
rounded by ten other marble figures, being designed and exquisitely sculp-
tured by Agostino Busti. a Milanese.

300 JACaUIN CAUMONT.

their sacred privacies. As soon as Chabarmes was ap-
prised of what was in progress, he laudably addressed all
his energies to the arrest and punishment of the offenders.
He hastened through the city with a select body of his
troops, and from the windows of one convent, alone, he hung
no less than thirty-four of the wretches who had penetrated
its walls with violence. In this decisive act of justice
he realized another prediction of the astrologer of Carpi.
One of the victims on this occasion, and the chief among
the offenders, was that Jacquin Caumont, captain of foot in
the bands of the Lord Molart, whom we remember to have
seen commending himself to the Duke de Nemours as
a g^endarm, when he fell into the canal at Finale, saved
only from drowning by that destiny which he irritated the
astrologer of Carpi to declare aloud. In this manner he
finished his career, verifying the prediction in full, even to
the time limited for the consummation of his fate.

The effect of this great victory was immediate. The
cities of Imola, Forli, Cesena, Rimini, and several other
places, dreading a like fate with Ravenna, sent deputies to
testify their obedience to the King of France, and almost
the whole extent of Romagna was once more occupied by
his arms. But the allies were undiscouraged. The first
panic over, they were soon taught to understand that the
victory at Ravenna was quite as unfortunate for the French
as for themselves. They had lost many of their. ablest cap-
tains, many of their best men, and were encumbered with
their sick and wounded, and were dreadfully demoralized
by the sacking of Ravenna. Continued apprehensions in
their camp, with regard to threatened descents of the
Swiss, necessarily discouraged their enterprise, and kept
them rather watchful for their own safety than eager to
engage against their enemies. The war began to languish,
and the affairs of France to decline in Italy, at the
moment in which her armies had obtained their most brill-
iant successes. King Louis, entertaining serious appre-

DECLINE OF THE FRENCH POWER. 301

hensions from the invasions of Henry VIII. of England,
was now anxious for reconciliation with the Pope. A
treaty was made between them; but the Holy Father was
too subtle for the temporal prince, and, advised of the de-
bilitated condition of the French army, he contrived, on
some slight pretext, to evade its obligations. Meanwhile,
the army of Spain was supplied with new reinforcements.
A large body of Swiss was subsidized by the Pope, and
numerous volunteers, from the same nation, swelled their
forces to thrice the number for which he had contracted.
It happened, unfortunately for Louis, that he had been
heard to speak slightingly of the faith and courage of these
mountaineers, whom frequent successes and constant em-
ployment, as the soldiery of other nations, had enflamed
with insolence and vanity. To these were joined the
troops of Venice and of Rome, composing an army of
more than thirty thousand men. The lansquenets, still in
the army of France, were glad of the orders of their
emperor, which enabled them, without discredit, to desert
a falling cause; and, menaced with danger on all sides, La
Palisse first attempted to fortify himself in Valezzio, but,
finding the place too weak for defence, and unable to con-
tend with such superior numbers, he distributed a great
part of his troops in the strong garrisons of Crema, Brescia,
and Bergamo ; and, with the remainder, consisting only of
seven hundred lancers, two thousand French infantry, and
four thousand Germans, retired to Ponterico. This was
a town of considerable strength ; but it was here that
the lansquenets — all but about seven hundred — forming
the largest portion of his force, was withdrawn from him
by the imperial orders. This was the ruin of his army.
From Ponterico, he retreated upon Pavia. Here he
determined to make a stand. At this place, one of his
most valuable prisoners, the Cardinal de Medicis, afterwards
Leo X., escaped from his custody. The French had
scarcely begun to fortify Pavia when the allies made their

Or

302 FLIGHT FROM PAVIA.

appearance, and entered it two days after its occupation by
the former. La Palisse, by the advice of Bayard, the
better to guard against contingencies, had caused a bridge
of boats to be constructed over the Tesino, anticipating the
necessity of a flight by some other mode than that afforded
by the stone bridge which the city possessed already. It
was well he took this precaution. Before the French were
altogether conscious of the neighborhood of danger, the
Swiss penetrated to the market-place of Pavia. To this point
the French captains made their way with all the men they
could bring together; and a fierce conflict ensued, in which
Captain d'Ars, who had been made governor of the town,
La Palisse himself, and the Lord of Humbercourt, fought
gallantly, as became their former deeds and the high rank
which they enjoyed for courage and command. But none
of them equalled the almost incredible things which were
performed by Bayard on this occasion. With not more
than thirty of his gendarms he stopped the Swiss, and kept
them in a prolonged conflict for two hours, while the
French artillery was in progress across the bridge. Two
horses were killed under him during this unequal struggle,
from which he only withdrew when warned by his lieuten-
ant, Captain Pierrepont, that the Swiss were passing the
river also, and that he must escape at once if he would not
be surrounded by his foes. The order was accordingly
given to retreat, which the gendarms did, still fighting at
every step. They were closely pressed until the bridge
was reached, when the cavalry succeeded, after a boisterous
conflict, in passing over. The bridge was kept by a force
of three hundred lansquenets. Unfortunately for these ad-
venturers, a heavy piece of artillery, called the Lady of
Forli, the last to be transported, sunk the first bark to
which it was transferred. This broke one of the connect-
ing links which held the bridge together, and cut off the
only means of retreat for the unhappy lansquenets, who
were compelled to escape, as. they might. Some of them

BAYARD WOUNDED. 303

iicl so ; others were slain by their enemies ; and not a few
perished in the waters of the Tesino.

Bayard was one of the last to suffer in this very nar-
row escape. He had nearly fallen a victim to his hardi-
hood. Always the last in the retreat, as the first in the
advance, he had taken his post at one extremity of the
bridge which his comrades had already passed, when a
falcon-shot from the town grazed him between the shoul-
der and the neck, tearing away the flesh and laying bare
the bone. Those who witnessed the blo\v, concluded that
he was finally sped ; but he, never dismayed, though
conscious that he was desperately wounded, encouraged
his companions, who were looking on aghast, and doing
nothinor for his relief. — " Gentlemen, this is nothing1."

O ' C?

They proceeded to stanch the blood as well as possible,
with moss gathered from the trees and with fragments torn
from the shirts of his comrades. And this rude surgery
was the work of simple soldiers. The French, in the
exigency of the retreat, were unprovided with a surgeon.
In this condition, the good knight was borne to Alessandria,
where they were not long permitted to remain. Still
pressed by their eager enemies, the debris of the French
army abandoned Lombardy altogether, those places ex-
cepted which have already been mentioned, and in which
stronsr garrisons were maintained. In all other places the

O O •*-

people rose against them with the same brutal levity with
which they had risen against their native masters. Their
capriciousness was only to be gratified with blood. In the
city of Milan, the French inhabitants, chiefly merchants,
were indiscriminately butchered, to the number of fifteen
hundred. In other towns, similar massacres followed the
departure of the troops, by whom the native ferocity had
been kept in subjection. The peasantry watched for the
straggling soldiery, on the retreat to the Alps, and wo to
the feeble and infirm who fell in the rear, or the thoughtless
who wandered away from the support of their companions.

301 BAYARD'S LAMENTATION.

The French succeeded in their escape across the mount-
ains, and all that remained to them, after this disastrous
war, in which so many precious lives were lost, and so
much treasure was wasted, was the glory of Gaston de
Foix and the famous deeds of Bayard. These make
their monuments, and fill their chronicles, and furnish
them with models and with morals, which have en-
dured, perhaps equally for good and for evil, for successive
centuries.

Suffering from his wounds and from the protracted fa-
tigues of a long and perilous campaign, in which the ser-
vice was hard and urgent, and the comforts few or none,
Bayard proceeded to Grenoble, where he was received
most affectionately by his venerable uncle, the bishop of
the place, whom he had not seen for many years. He was
lodged within the episcopal palace, where he fell grievously
ill in consequence of his hurts and previous ailments. For
seventeen days his life was despaired of, and he himself
became reconciled to a fate which was thought inevitable,
only lamenting that he had not perished in the saddle. His
wailings in regard to this disappointment have been pre-
served by his attendants. " Alas !" said he, " oh, my God,
wherefore, since it is thy pleasure that I should leave the
world so soon, didst thou not vouchsafe that I should die
in the company of that gentle prince, the Duke de Ne-
mours, and with the rest of my companions on the field of
Ravenna. Why didst thou not suffer that I should end my
days at the assault of Brescia, where I was so perilously
hurt ] Ah ! how much happier to fall, as my ancestors
have ever done before, upon the field of battle. Have I,
oh merciful God, who have passed through so many and
such great dangers from the shot of artillery, the thrust of
pike, the stroke of sword and battle-axe ; in assaults, in en-
counters, in all varieties of conflict, — have I escaped, by thy
grace and mercy, from all these dangers, only to expire
like a girl upon her couch. Nathless, though I would it

HE RECOVERS. 305

were otherwise, thy will be done. Great sinner as I am,
I build my hope on thy infinite mercy. Alas ! my Fa-
ther, I have in all times past grievously offended against
thy holy laws. It had been my hope, as it was my resolu-
tion, hadst thou spared me a little longer, with the aid of thy
grace, to have amended my evil life. But, to thy mercy I
yield myself. Do with me as thou wilt, and let the close
of my mortal life be the expiation of its sins."

The prayers of Bayard were seconded by those of his
uncle and' his friends. Nobles, and priests, and citizens,
nuns and monks, joined in the general supplication in
behalf of a knight so beloved and so renowned. " Amon^

O O

so many," piously remarks the "Loyal Servant," "it was
not possible that there should not be some one just person,
whom the Lord would be pleased to hear ; and this was
plainly manifested in the gradual diminution of his fever,
and the improvement of his condition." His fever left him,
his nights were crowned with the blessing of sound, unbrok-
en sleep — he regained his appetite and spirits; and, under
good treatment, and cheered with the affectionate solicitude
of friends, our hero was soon perfectly restored to health,
and with a heart as buoyant and happy as ever. The
ladies, in particular, strove with one another to minister to
the delight of one who had always been so devoted to the
sex. They extolled his virtues, and sought his company,
made fetes in his honor, and abashed him by the warmth
of their praises. Whether this was the fruit of a simple
admiration of his prowess, or whether, in those days, as it is
supposed to be the case in ours, there were some who
entertained a lurking desire selfishly to appropriate the
excellences which hitherto had been common to the
enjoyment of the whole world of beauty, it would not be
proper to insinuate ; certain it is, that no knight has ever
been better favored by the sex, more earnestly entreated,
more benevolently smiled upon, or more tenderly solicited,
in all the usual walks of society.

cc*

306 BAYARD NO SAINT.

Returning health, luxurious ease, and a respite from the
anxieties and cares of war, were influences by no means
favorable to those virtues, in our good knight, which had so
endeared him to the admiration of the sex. The conse-
quence was, that he yielded to those temptations, for a
season, which, in most other men, are found seasonable al-
ways. Bayard, with all his virtues, was, alas ! no saint.
His recent dangers were forgotten in the renewed activity
and flow of youthful blood. He no longer remembered
his penitential prayers and pious promises to the Deity ;
and, during one of his walks through the environs of Gren-
oble, struck with the beauty of a young woman whom he
beheld at a window, he longed for the enjoyment of her
charms. This criminal desire, which he made no efforts to
gratify, preyed upon his thoughts. He was perceived to
be melancholy and abstracted, and a little painstaking on
the part of one of his attendants, named Cordon, enabled
him to discover the secret of his master. Bayard's walks
were always in the one direction. His eyes still sought out
the beautiful features of the young girl who had inspired
his passions ; and the solicitous inquiries of Cordon ex-
torted from our good knight the expression of a desire,
upon which the ready valet was only too well pleased to
act. There are always at hand some convenient creatures,
when a vice would find its way into commission ; particu-
larly where the wrong-doer is a person of any consequence.
Cordon reminds us of what King John remarks, when
Hubert tells him that he has slain Prince Arthur :

It is the curse of kings to be attended

By slaves, who take their humor for a warrant,

And, on the winking of authority,

To understand a law.

Cordon was one of these persons. Bayard did but wink,
and the submissive lacquey was ready for the vice. We
do not propose, in this, to shield our good knight, hitherto
sans tdcke, from any of the shame which belongs to the

THE DAMSEL. 307

event. If his creature was ready for the task, his master's
weakness furnished him sufficient prompting ; and if there
were no apology for him, his employer was equally without
excuse. But we shall see hownobly the latter converts a fault
into a virtue, and redeems his nature from reproach. Our
hero had been absent at a convivial party in the town, and
returned to his lodgings late at night. Entering his cham-
ber, he encountered the beauty upon whom his thoughts
for several days had been set. She was a beautiful virgin,
scarcely sixteen years of age, the only daughter of a
wretched woman, a widow, who, in her poverty, was pre-
pared to sell her child. The eyes of the girl were red
with weeping. The big tears were yet hanging on her
cheeks. Her whole aspect was full of grief and terror, and
her breast swelled and heaved with emotions which were
too evidently those of sorrow and bitterness, to leave any
one deceived as to the purity of her soul. Bayard looked
at her with equal pleasure and astonishment. Her tears
could not conceal her beauties. Her grief did but heighten
her charms. These he could not help but feel ; but he felt
her sorrows also. " My child," said he, tenderly, " was
it only to grieve that you came hither]" Encouraged by
his kind looks, his gentle accents, and the delicacy of his
manner, the poor girl flung herself at his feet and, with a
bursting heart, declared her own horror at the condition to
which she had been brought — announced the destitution
of her mother as the necessity for her proposed cruel
sacrifice ; and, in a passion of tears, implored his mercy
and forbearance. She spoke with loathing of the fate to
which her mother had devoted her, and, not only persuaded
the good knight that her heart was pure, and her virtue
without blemish or spot, but that she entertained within her
bosom a tender affection for another. Bayard, charmed as
much with the simplicity as nobleness of her sentiments,
raised her from the floor, saying, " God forbid, my child,
that I should wickedly seek to banish such honorable feel-

308 BAYARD'S MAGNANIMITY.

ings from your heart; come with me, you shall sleep to-
night where you will not suffer shame."

Thus saying, he wrapped her carefully in his cloak, and
commanding his guilty valet to bring torches, he conveyed
the damsel to the house of a gentlewoman of Grenoble, a
near relation of his own, who dwelt not far from his own
lodgings. There he placed her for the night.* The next

* Mr. Bulwerhas made this anecdote in the life of Bayard the subject of
a ballad, which, as the story is one of exceeding difficult handling, in any
form, it may please the reader to see. He prefaces his poem by a remark
that, the avoidance of the literal fact is an imperative condition of the art,
whether of poet or painter — a rather vague enunciation of the simple princi-
ple that the literal is not the province of the imagination. But here is his
version of the narrative.

BAYARD.— A TALE.

Love ofttimes in the haughtiest knight

His easiest conquest sees;
The plume that leads the foremost fight

The toy to ev'ry breeze.

More fair than rose at dawning day

When May her zephyr seeks,
The blossom c-f the human May,

The rose on virgin cheeks.

If Love has charms, why, wealth has pow'r, —

Her sire the slave of gold.
Alas ! that for the glittering show'r

The Danae should be sold !

She stood before him at the night,

Unfriended and alone ;
And o'er her charms the tempting light

From silver cressets shone.

She stood, — above her bosom's snow

The modest hands were prest,
And voiceless heaved, in ebb and flow,

The deeps within the breast.

She stood ; — the ivory shoulders down

The glittering tresses stray'd
Like light that from a martyr's crown

A halo round her made.

THE MOTHER. 30U

morning he sent for the mother. " Woman," said he, stern-
ly addressing her, "art thou not the most wretched creature
in the world that, having a daughter who hath hitherto led

So fair a form, in holy cell,

The saint I ween might see ;
And o'er that form his glances fell, —

" No saint, alas ! was he !"

He moved, he spoke, he knelt, he sued —

The noblest of the land ;
With gentlest words the master wooed,

And clasp'd the victim's hand !

Then o'er the marble cheek there flush'd

The hues that went and came ;
And to the lip, in trembling rush'd

The words of hope and shame.

" Oh ! spare me, — spare me, noble knight,

The child a sire could doom,
And leave to life the stainless light

That sanctifies the tomb !

" This morn mine eyes could greet the sun, —

Ah ! shall they loathe the ray, —
To-morrow, scorn'd by every one,

Whose love approved to-day ?

" This morn, methought the voice of pray'r

The gates of heaven could ope ! —
To-morrow, — O ! how prays Despair,

When naught is left for Hope?

'•This morn — why should I blush to speak ? —

I loved, beloved again ;
Nay, not the love that fires thy cheek —

A love that could not stain !

" This hour, unconscious, sad, alone,

His lips repeat my name ;
To-day his pride ; — to-morrow grown,

Oh, God ! into his shame !

" Before thy thousand wreaths of bay,
One leaf how poor and dim !

310 BAYARD REBUKES HER.

an honest life, a pure and beautiful creature, with a heart
set upon a virtuous affection, thou should'st go about to
corrupt her !"

A thousand flowrets glad thy way,
Bui / — arn all to him.

" Turn not, O ! turn not !" From her eyes

His hands his aspect hid !
Perchance the thought the speech denies,

The startled conscience chid '

Perchance the haunted Past along

Th' accusing memory stray'd,
And woke the pale repentant throng

By young Desire betray'd ;

Perchance, to that blest hour the birth

Of holier thoughts was given.
And wings, no more to stoop to earth,

Regain'd their native heaven !

"No mail like innocence secure !

Await, and tremble not ;
The angel-buckler guards the pure,"

He said — and left the spot !

The midnight hour the church-bell toll'd, —

Oh ! heart, more loud thy beat ;
A step — a voice — a form — behold

Thy lover at thy feet !

" Look up ! look up ! — I claim my bride '

The evil days are past ; —
The gold my fate till now denied,

•is mine — is ours at last !

" By Bayard's side my father fell, —

The son the hero found ;
And — " ere the rest his lips could tell,

They heard the bugles sound ;

They heard the ringing hoofs depart ;

Aloft the pennon flow'd,
And from the town, with lighter heart,

The noble Bayard rode '

HE PORTIONS THE DAUGHTER. 311

The mother, who *vas a reduced gentlewoman, shrunk
and trembled before the severe aspect and language of
the knight. When she found her utterance, she pleaded
her necessities and the poverty of her condition ; but to
this plea Bayard gave no ear.

" That you have been a gentlewoman makes your guilt
the worse, and should increase your punishment. But
what is this person who seeks your daughter in marriage ?
Is he a proper man 1 Is he worthy of her love V

The answer was affirmative. The obstacle to their
marriage was their mutual poverty. Six hundred florins
were required as the marriage portion of the damsel.

" That shall be no longer an obstacle. Here, madam,"
said he, giving her a purse, — " here are three hundred
crowns, two hundred of which are equal to six hundred
florins of Grenoble. The remaining hundred you will
give to your daughter that she may procure her bridal
garments. Go now, and see that she is married."

The good knight paused not to listen to the thanks and
praises of the wretched mother, whom he thus deprived
of all motive to the commission of a most unnatural crime.
But his eyes were not withdrawn from those he served.
One of his followers was entrusted with the charge of
them until the marriage was over, an event which fol-
lowed within three days. Certainly, Pierre Bayard was
no saint ; but what mortal, not positively a saint, was ever
sweeter in his courtesy, purer in his passion, and more
generous, with no other motive save that of love for
human nature. And love was sufficient motive ; for never
has it been that human being more universally acquired
the affection of those who came to know him, than himself.
His conquests of the heart were even more numerous
than those which he made in b'attle.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THOSE were not days of repose, and the "tangles of
Naeera's hair" could not long detain the soul of knighthood
from the fields of war. Recovered wholly from his wounds,
Bayard obeyed the requisition of the king, his sovereign,
to resume his place in his armies. The provocation this
time came from Spain. The small kingdom of Navarre
lies on the frontiers between France and Spain. John
d'Albret, its monarch, was an ally and fiiend of Louis.
With Louis and John under the ban of the Church —
with the armies of the former, discomfited in Italy, — it
seemed a fitting opportunity for Ferdinand of Arragon,
whose arms were at this time greatly strengthened by
an English force under the Marquis of Dorset, to possess
himself of a very desirable, contiguous territory. On vari-
ous pretexts, he urged such conditions upon the King
of Navarre, as the latter, without discrediting his royalty,

WAR IN NAVARRE. 313

could not submit to. The consequence, as Ferdinand had
determined, was an invasion of the territories of the former,
by the Duke of Alva, who soon possessed himself of Pam-
peluna and many other towns of the kingdom. The King
of Navarre, whose indolence would have lost all the king-
doms that could be confided to him by the most indulgent
bounty,* applied for succor to the King of France, who
willingly listened to the application. The command of the
French troops was confided to the Duke de Longueville
and the Count de Montpensier; but they, differing in some
respects, chiefly because of the ill success which distin-
guished their prosecution of the war, the title of general-
issimo was subsequently conferred upon the Count d'An-
gouleme, afterward the celebrated Francis I.

In this army, which did nothing in this war for the de-
fence of Navarre, we discern the most famous captains of
the time — the Viscount Lautrec, La Palisse, with whom
we are already so familiar, and our own Chevalier Bayard.
They penetrated the seat of struggle, and approached the
forces of Spain, under the Duke of Alba, who had encamp-
ed near Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. Here, the Count d'An-
gouleme, according to the custom of the time, formally
sent a cartel to his enemy ; but the Duke of Alba replied,
that though very much honored by the invitation, nothing
could persuade him to fight, except when it was his humor
to do so. This, if not the actual language, was the amount
of his reply. Meanwhile, the king of Navarre, penetrating
his kingdom by the Val-de-Roncal, captured several small
places, and proceeded to march upon Pampeluna. This
drew the eyes of the Duke of Alba upon him, who instantly
struck his tents at Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, arid took the
same direction. The king of Navarre, who had it in his
power to seize upon the defiles by which the duke would

* His queen, a woman of high spirit, is reported to have said to him,
14 Had you been Mademoiselle Catherine, and / Don John, we had never
lost our kingdom." And she no doubt spoke the truth.

PD

314 THE SIEGE.

be compelled to pass, committed the error of neglecting
them entirely; the consequence of which was, that the gar-
rison of Pampeluna received ample succors, and the Span-
ish general took a position sufficiently contiguous to afford
farther assistance to the place, should it be needed. In
spite of this blunder, and the evil results which followed it,
the King of Navarre persevered in pressing the siege of the
place. In doing so, it was found that there was a castle
some four leagues from Pampeluna, which, as a source of
annoyance, it was necessary to conquer. It is with the di-
vision of the French army, led by La Palisse, and accom-
panying the King of Navarre in person, that we find the
Chevalier Bayard. To him it was confided, to make him-
self master of this castle, which was strong, rather because
of its massive works and its position, than because of the
number of its defenders. Bayard took with him, on this
adventure, his own company of horse, a small troop of ad-
venturers from that of Captain Bonneval, and some eight
hundred German lansquenets, with four pieces of artillery.
A portion of this force was designed to overawe the inhab-
itants of a neighboring town, called Puente de la Regna,
who might otherwise have been inclined to help the castle
in the moment of conflict. His troops, properly disposed
for the two objects, of keeping the town in order, and cap-
turing the castle ; Bayard summoned the latter to surren-
der ; offering to deal mercifully with the garrison, leaving
them in possession of life and property, if the place was
yielded without a struggle ; and threatening them, on re-
fusal, with all the terrors of a storm. But the captain of
the Spaniards stoutly answered with a defiance, and the
artillery promptly opened upon the walls. The garrison,
meanwhile, fought stubbornly with their arquebusses-a-croc
and falconets, but could not prevent the artillery of the be-
siegers from effecting a breach in the space of an hour's
cannonade. The opening was sufficiently large, but as it
required to be ascended, it was thought a rather inconve-

JOHN DE LA VERGNE. 315

merit one. Such, at least, was the opinion of the lansque-
nets, who, on being required to advance to the assault, put
forward a spokesman, who averred, that it was a custom
among them, whenever a place was to be taken by assault,
to require double pay. They added, that if this rule were
not complied with in the present instance, they should not
go to the attack. Bayard replied, quietly, that he knew of
no such rule ; but said to them, that, if the castle was taken,
he would answer for it, that they should receive all that
they required. He yielded, against his will, to their requi-
sitions, simply to avoid the loss of time. But his concession
did not satisfy these mercenaries, and all his arguments
failed to persuade a single lansquenet to mount the breach.
The French adventurers, from the foot-soldiers of Captain
Bonneval, showed a better spirit, and resolutely advanced to
the assault ; but their numbers were quite too few for the
object, and, after two or three repulses, Bayard saw that
other processes were to be tried. The besieged had shown
him that they knew something about fighting. Bayard had
resources, however, within himself, of which neither the
lansquenets nor the garrison had dreamed. Causing the
retreat to be sounded, he withdrew his adventurers from
the breach, and proceeded to renew his cannonade, osten-
sibly with the view to widening the breach ; but, while the
artillery was playing, he called to his side a very gallant
fellow, one of his gendarms, named John de la Vergne,
whom, on account of his diminutive size, they called famil-
iarly Little John de la Vergne. Bayard knew his man.
He directed his eye to a tower at one of the corners of the
castle, opposite to the side which he was battering. " Take
with you," he said, " some thirty or forty men, and when I
shall recommence the assault, lead them aside, and, with
two or three ladders essay to mount that tower. My life
on it, you will find none to defend it. They will be here
fighting with us. Away now, and win yourself great credit
as you win the tower."

316 THE SURPRISE.

Little John admirably comprehended the duty assigned
him. The signal, for the assault in front, was that for his
movement also. While the main body of the adventurers
rushed to the breach, he stole aside with the companions
he had chosen, and succeeded, unseen and unsuspected, in
making his way to the foot of the tower. There he planted
his ladder and began the ascent. The conflict, meanwhile,
was fiercely urged in front. The garrison, as Bayard pre-
dicted, had crowded from every quarter of the castle to
that which was threatened with the greatest danger. The
clamor at their gates drew all their attention. The clash
of their own weapons silenced all other sounds. Little
John de la Vergne executed his mission successfully.
Man after man ascended the tower, to the number of
fifty, and it was only when they took the Spaniards in
the rear, with the cry of " France and Navarre" — cries
which scarcely fell upon them more suddenly than the
blows which followed them — did they dream of any foe
but those in front. Daunted as they necessarily were,
the besieged fought bravely, but their efforts availed them
nothing. The assailants at the breach, encouraged by
the cries from within, took new heart, and made their way
in, also, in spite of every obstacle. Between the two ene-
mies the brave garrison were very soon knocked upon
the head, or admitted to terms of mercy. The place
was then rendered dismantled, and given up to sack and
pillage.

But now came the lansquenets forward. They had
the impudence to demand of Bayard the fulfilment of
his promise, that, if the place was taken, they should
receive double pay. Our " Good Knight" could not
suppress his indignation. These mercenaries had done
nothing.

" They are more likely to receive a halter at my hands,
than any other compensation !" was his fierce response to
their captain ; " away to your worthless scoundrels, and

THE LANSaUENETS. 317

say to them that I shall indeed speak of the matter to my
Lord de la Palisse, and to their captain-general, but it will
be to have them cashiered. They are not worth a single
sous !"

This answer occasioned loud outcries among the lans-
quenets, who began to exhibit symptoms of a spirit which
led Bayard to apprehend that he should be compelled to
fight his way through them, as well as through the walls
of the Spaniards. He accordingly made his people sound
to horse ; and, arranging his gendarms and the adventurers,
in anticipation of their assault, he prepared, if they made a
show of hostility, to do his best in cutting them to pieces.
But the courage which required double pay, as a stimulant
to valor after the battle had begun, was not likely to assail
those who, in spite of them, had proved the conquerors on
the occasion. The lansquenets were quieted by their offi-
cers, and followed with the rest, to rejoin the main army
before Pampeluna.

The affair was destined to have a somewhat ludicrous
termination. Bayard that night gave a supper, at which he
had many of the chief men of the army, among whom
was the Duke of Suffolk, the captain-general of all the
lansquenets in camp, and they numbered some six or seven
thousand. The repast was nearly over, when a lansquenet,
who had been drinking pretty freely, made his appearance
at the entrance of the apartment, and was somewhat stag-
gered at the imposing presence in which he found himself.
When asked whom he sought, he answered,

"Captain Bayard — whom I come to kill."

This was said in broken French, which Captain Pierre-
pont sufficiently understood to report.

" Here, my lord," said he to Bayard, " here is a lans-
quenet, who seeks you that he may slay you."

Bayard was no martinet. With a mirthful countenance,
and with the greatest good-humor in the world, he started
instantly from the table, sword in hand, exclaiming, " Oh !

DD*

38 A SCENE AT SUPPER.

does he ?" Then, approaching the lansquenet, he said, —
"Is it you who seek to slay Captain Bayard? Well! —
here he is, — and now defend yourself !"

The proceeding was quite too prompt for our lansque-
net, who, between bad liquor and bad counsel, had gone
badly to work, and, terribly frightened, in broken French,
proceeded to say that the determination was not enter-
tained by him alone, but by all the lansquenets in the army.
" Mercy upon us ! What ! — all the lansquenets !" ex-
claimed Bayard. " Then it is time for me to cry peccavi.
Quarter, my comrade ! You shall give me quarter. I
might fight against you, or any other one man ; but against
seven thousand, the case is altered. Comrade, we must
come to composition !" With these words, scarcely con-
taining his laughter — that of the company was uncon-
trolled— he conducted the drunken mercenary to the table,
and seated him at the board, vis-a-vis with himself, to
the satisfaction of his nobler guests. Here he plied him
with attentions. The fellow's goblet was filled and refilled,
and the good knight drank with him, proceeding, as he had
begun, in such playful wise, with so much grace, good-
humor, and adroitness that, while the company were con-
vulsed with the scene, the redoubtable lansquenet became
ravished with his tormentor. So far from killing him, he
swore that he would become his champion — that nobody
should kill him — that he was the worthiest man he had
ever met, and kept the best of liquors. The story • vas
a three days' amusement for the camp, and effectually
disarmed the hostility of the lansquenets.

The siege of Pampeluna was urged unsuccessfully.
The place, reinforced by the Duke of Alba, and encour-
aged by his proximity, was kept by that " gentle Span-
ish knight," Hernandez de Cordoba, Alcayde de los
Donzeles. He maintained the defence with a steady
valor and an undeviating prudence, which gave the lea-
guers no advantages. He had sustained gallantly, and

SKIRMISHES. 319

with success, one terrible assault, and repulsed his enemies.
They were preparing for a second, when a new army of
Spaniards made its appearance, under the command of the
Duke of Najara. This compelled the King of Navarre to
raise the siege, and begin a retreat in season, from a power
which was accumulating very far beyond his own. Other
circumstances contributed to this necessity. The besieging
troops were suffering great distress for want of provisions.
They had unwisely ravaged the country, and carelessly and
wantonly wasted its resources. A famine threatened them
even while they were preparing for a second assault, look-
ing for their supplies to the granaries of the garrison.
Disappointed in this hope, they raised the siege at noon-
day, with a melancholy prospect before them, abandoning
their artillery at the foot of the rugged passes of the moun-
tains, over which, in their enfeebled state, it was something
of a trial to make their own way. To the providence, the
vigilance, the skill, and courage of Bayard, on this retreat,
the safety of the army is ascribed. But for him, it is
admitted, they had never regained their country. His
renown was increased accordingly. His intrepidity and
sangfroid seem to have been equal. He indulged in his
pleasantries — which were always graceful, and those of the
gentleman, never degenerating into horse play — at the mo-
ment of greatest distress and danger ; and thus frequently
succeeded in soothing the aspect of that distress which it
was not possible in any way to overcome. The " Loyal
Servant" tells us an anecdote of this retreat, which displays
the graceful and even temper of his mind, and the cheerful
elasticity of his moods. The enemy were hanging on their
flanks, galling them in their flight by constant alarms and
assaults. On one occasion the day had been spent in
skirmishing, and no time had been allowed for food or
refreshment. With night only did they find a respite ; and,
late in the evening, covered with sweat and dust, the Duke
of Suffolk, surnamed, among the French, " The White

320 THE RETREAT.

Rose,"* went in search of Bayard. When he saw him, he
said, " Captain Bayard, I am dying of hunger, and my
people tell me that there is nothing at my lodging. Let
me sup with you."

It is probable that the captain of gendarms, sweeping a
considerable extent of country on horseback, was better
able to provide a supper, under existing circumstances,
than even a general of foot.

" Ay, marry, my lord, I shall entertain you well,"
was the pleasant reply. " You shall sup as well as if
you were in Paris. Ho ! there, Master Inghien," ad-
dressing his steward — " see now that you despatch our
supper, for your own credit as well as mine."

The idea of supping as they might have done in Paris
consoled the duke while provoking his laughter. He
probably contemplated such a feast as that of the Barme-
cide in the Arabian Tales. He had fared, for two days,
on nothing better than bread of millet. What the material
of the repast was, on this occasion, has not reached us ; but
if Bayard had a Parisian cook, it is not improbable that,
even in the present exigencies of the army, he might
astound the heavy islanders by the resources of his genius,
if not of the commissariat. Of the horrors of this retreat,
chiefly because of famine, some notion may be gained from
the fact that numbers of the wretched infantry destroyed
themselves on reaching Bayonne, by a surfeit of food. The
expedition had proved altogether disastrous, yielding neither
spoil nor honor to those who had yet gone forth in support
of the oppressed. The redeeming circumstance in their
progress was their return. The retreat of the French,
it is admitted, was admirably performed, the credit of
which was almost wholly due to Bayard. Meanwhile, the

* Richard de la Pole, brother of the Earl of Suffolk, whom Henry VIII.
beheaded. The former attempted to revive the York faction, and to instigate
them against the existing government — baffled, he fled to France, and
made an officer in the French service, was, as we have seen, allotted the
command of the lansquenets.

SEA-FIGHT. 321

death of Pope Julius had relieved France from an im-
placable enemy. His successor, the world-renowned Leo X.,
at an early period of his reign, declared himself free from
any hostile feeling toward the French, and thus opened
the door for a pacification. But Louis could not forego
his designs upon the Milanese, and the new Pope was
sufficiently patriotic to desire the expulsion of all foreign-
ers, who came as invaders, from the Italian territories. It
was while the King of France was preparing to renew
his attempts upon the duchy of Milan that a fleet and
army of English made their appearance upon the coast of
Brittany. This fleet was of forty-five sail, under the com-
mand of Sir Thomas Knevet. He carried with him Sir
Charles Brandon, Sir John Carew, and a cloud of young
courtiers, anxious to win their spurs and display their
valor. But nothing was achieved by the expedition, which
was remarkable for a single sea fight, in which the heroism
of a French captain was distinguished. While the English
were committing some small depredations upon the coast
of France, a French fleet commanded by Primaugay,
issued from Brest, and boldly gave them battle. The flag-
ship of the French admiral was La Cordeliere, a large
vessel which the Queen of France had built at her own ex-
pense. She selected, as her particular antagonist, the vessel
of the English admiral, the Regent, a ship of very great
size. La Cordeliere taking fire, Primaugay found it im-
possible to save her. He bore down accordingly upon the
English admiral, and succeeded in grappling with her.
Fastening the two vessels together, he doomed them to a
common fate. His design was successful. The opposing
fleets hauled off from the contest, paralyzed at the sight of
a conflict which was so terrible. They saw the devouring
flames spreading on every side, and heard the mingling
cries of fury and despair which came from the doomed and
suffering combatants. Primaugay, having thus decreed
the fate of his foe, did not shrink from his own. He

322 WAR IN ITALY RESUMED.

avoided the flames by leaping, in full armor, into the sea.
When the explosion came, which tore the two ships asun-
der, in blackened fragments which covered the deep, the
opposing fleets, as if by mutual consent, drew apart in con-
sternation, and they separated without farther fighting.

With this event concluded the efforts of Henry VIII., for
the present season, against the dominions of the French
king, and afforded to the latter an opportunity of resuming
his long-cherished passion for the conquest of Italy. Leo
X., whose family had found protection and favor in France,
when expelled from their native place, was anxious to avert
all causes of collision with the country where he had found
refuge. He was, besides, of a pacific spirit, and loved bet-
ter the triumphs of arts than arms. He perceived that
Louis had succeeded in persuading the Venetians from their
former alliance, and in uniting their efforts with his own.
He addressed himself in a friendly appeal both to Louis
and the Seignory of Venice, entreating them to spare Italy
from a renewal of those terrible calamities of war from
which she had not yet recovered. At the same time, not
confiding very much in the result of these entreaties, and
the argumentative suggestions by which they were accom-
panied, the Pope proceeded to the adoption of more effect-
ual measures of defence, if not of prevention. Maximilian
was subsidized with money beguiled from Henry VIII.,
and both of these readily entered into a new alliance
against France, to which Ferdinand of Arragon was nat-
urally a party as well as the Pope. A large body of Swiss
mercenaries were also engaged to unite with the Spanish
forces, and to second the efforts of Maximilian Sforza, in
the defence of his duchy of Milan. This alliance did not
discourage Louis from the prosecution of his enterprise ;
and an army consisting of fifteen hundred men-at-arms, eight
hundred light-horse, and fourteen thousand foot, among which
were the celebrated bandes noi?~es, under the command of
the Duke de la Tremouille, assisted by the Italian general,

BATTLE OF NOVAltA. 323

Gian-Giacopo Trivulzio, marshal of France, descended
from Susa into Lombardy. In their progress they possess-
ed themselves of Asti and Alessandria, while their adherents
in Milan, succeeded in throwing into the citadel of that place,
which the French had continued to hold, additional troops
and ample supplies of provisions. Genoa was recovered
about the same time by a French fleet, and in consequence
of a popular rising in their favor. The Venetians, their
allies, were busy, also, attacking the city of Cremona ; they
reinforced the citadel, which the French still garrisoned.
Bergamo opened her gates to the banner of St. Mark,
Brescia followed the example, and all the auspices seemed
favorable to the new war of conquest which, so far, had
been waged by France and Venice with equal unanimity,
vigor, and good fortune. The whole of the Milanese was
now in their possession, except Como and Novara. These
places still adhered to Sforza, who, with his Swiss allies,
had retired to the latter. Hither the French advanced,
elated with success ; and, laying siege to Novara, they bat-
tered it with a formidable train of artillery. At this critical
juncture the approach of a rather large body of the Swiss
was announced to the French commander. This intelli-
gence prompted him to retire from before Novara, and to
encamp at the Rotta, two miles distant. The Swiss, newly
arrived, having formed a junction with the forces in Novara,
it was resolved among them to proceed to the attack of the
French, without waiting for other forces which were known
to be upon the road. Before the break of day, on the
7th of June, 1513, they made a furious assault upon the
French in their entrenchments. The latter, though scarce-
ly prepared for the attack at that moment, had not been re-
gardless of the spirit and the numbers of their enemy. An
engagement ensued which was supported on both sides
with great constancy and courage for several hours. The
artillery of the French, brought to bear successfully upon
their assailants, disordered their advance and thinned their

324 ROBERT DE LA MARCK.

numbers, but could not subdue the spirit or discourage the
audacity of these fierce and hardy mountaineers. Fighting
for pay, they had yet another motive, and were anxious to
show their hardihood and superiority when fighting against
the French monarch. Louis had spoken slightingly of their
prowess, and had striven to raise an infantry from his own
peasantry. This was a loss of employment to a people who
had become the mercenaries of all Europe. Besides, the
main body of foot-soldiers in the French army were hirelings
like themselves, but they came from Germany ; and a rival-
ship in trade naturally provoked an intense ambition on the
part of the Swiss to show themselves the better soldiers.
They made the most astonishing efforts, and, in spite of the
slaughter of their van, they beat down opposition, crossed
the entrenchments, and succeeded in seizing on the artillery
of the French, which they now turned upon its former own-
ers. This event decided the fate of the day. The rout of
the French became general, though only after the most ad-
mirable exhibition of valor. It was their misfortune that,
from the unwise position which Trivulzio had taken, the cav-
alry could not be brought into action ; and this constituted
the chivalry of the whole army, and was tolerably numerous
besides. The slaughter was very great among both the
combatants. More than one half of the Swiss perished in
their murderous desire to prove their superiority to the Ger-
man lansquenets. And they did so most effectively. The
latter, deriving but small support from the cavalry, were
nearly cut to pieces. In this battle, which exhibited many
noble instances of courage and valor, one in particular is
recorded of Robert de la Marck, who, at the head of a
small body of cavalry, piercing the ranks of the successful
Swiss, succeeded in liberating his two sons, both of whom,
being wounded, had been made prisoners. The French
army recrossed the Alps, a portion of it being despatched to
carry on the war in Navarre ; from which, however, it was
soon withdrawn to make head against a more serious dan-

FRENCH DEFEATED. 325

ger, the descent of the English upon Calais. Thus ended,
in defeat, the favorite hope of Louis XII. to possess him-
self of Milan. It was reserved for one of his successors to
renew the bloody conflict for the attainment of this too-
much desired prize.

E E

CHAPTER XXIX.

HENRY VIII. of England, eager, passionate and young,
was readily beguiled by the King of Arragon and the
Pope, into the appropriation of his money and his troops
in a cause which they persuaded him was common be-
tween them. He had found the means for subsidizing
Maximilian ; and, by a poll-tax which he imposed upon his
subjects, in due proportion to their wealth and dignities,
he succeeded in levying a powerful fleet and army for the
invasion of France. His army he designed to command in
person. The vanguard of this force, amounting to eight
thousand men, was sent forward to Calais, under the Earl
of Shrewsbury ; another body of six thousand soon follow-
ed, commanded by the chamberlain, Lord Herbert; and
the king himself, not long after, attended by most of his
nobility, and bringing with him the main body of his troops,
and the vanguard, crossed over to Calais. He was soon
joined by Maximilian, who was base enough to wear
the colors of his brother monarch, and to take pay, at an
hundred crowns per diem, for himself, as one of Henry's
subjects and captains. Before the arrival of the two kings
in the camp, the English earls had formed the siege
of Therouenne, a town situated on the frontiers of Picardy.
They attacked the place with vigor. It was held by two
intrepid captains, Francis de Teligni and Antonio de Cre-
qui. These brave officers opposed to their assailants a
most glorious defence. The post was well fortified, but
had not a sufficient supply of provisions and munitions of
war for sustaining a protracted leaguer. The garrison
consisted, along with the companies of these two captains,

HENRY VIII. 327

of a small body of French infantry, and a similar force of
lansquenets under the charge of Captain Brandrec. These
were all hardy and experienced soldiers, to whom the
town might well be confided, with every assurance that they
would honorably maintain it so long as the means remained
to them of doing so.

While the cannon of the Earl of Shrewsbury and Lord
Herbert were rattling against the walls of Theroiienne, the
King of England commenced his march from Calais for the
camp. The French monarch had sent against him a con-
siderable force, commanded by Louis de Halucui, the lord
of Piennes, and governor of Picardy. Bayard, with his
company, was attached to this army. He succeeded in
giving a severe fright to the English monarch on the line
of march, and might have realized a much more satisfacto-
ry success, but for the timidity of his commander. The
French horse were twelve hundred in number. The
English and Germans, whom the king led, consisted of
twelve thousand men, of whom four thousand were lans-
quenets. They had no cavalry. The French horse hover-
ed about their flanks, watchful of every opportunity to
pounce down upon their prey. They approached within
cannon-shot of the English, and so confident was their de-
portment, that Henry began to fancy that he was betrayed.
Dismounting from his horse, he placed himself among his
lansquenets, who were, from frequent and recent service,
better practised in arms than the English at that period.
Bayard eagerly demanded permission to make the attack.
He urged, to the Lord de Piennes, that no evil results could
follow — that, if repulsed, they could not be pursued, and,
if successful in breaking through them, the rout of the
enemy and the captivity of their king was certain. His
companions favored this opinion, but Piennes rejected it.
He would incur no responsibility, and if the attempt was
made, it should be done without his consent. " I was
charged by the king, my master," said he, " on my life, to

P

328 CAPTURE OF A SAINT.

attempt nothing, but to guard the country only. Vexed at
this denial, Bayard, with his company, yet made a dash
at the rear of the enemy, and succeeded in wresting from
them one of the twelve pieces of cannon, to which the
pious Henry had given the names of the twelve apostles.
It was a Saint John upon which the violent hands of our
chevalier was laid. He, perhaps, never knew, until after-
ward, the irreverence of which he had been guilty. The
piece was fairly won and carried off by his gendarms,
while the English troops pressed forward, anxious to escape
the harassing presence of a foe, against which, strangely
enough, they had taken no precautions. The Burgundian
and Hainault bands, under Maximilian, with whom came
the cavalry, followed after him, and soon added to the for-
midable array by which Theroiienne was invested. The
cannonading became more and more earnest, and the be-
sieged were compelled to communicate to the French
monarch that they began to suffer from the want of
provisions.

Louis was at Amiens, suffering from the gout. From
this place he sent despatches to the Lord of Piennes, that
Theroiienne must be victualled at all hazards. But this
was a duty which it was more easy to desire done than to
execute. The besiegers were equally numerous and vigi-
lant, and the leaguer seemed to be complete. Neverthe-
less, in obedience to the king's mandates, the attempt was
to be made. A scheme was devised, to be executed on a
certain day, by which, while a certain portion of the French
cavalry were to raise an alarm in the camp of the be-
siegers, another body, eight hundred in number, each of
whom carried a sack of gunpowder and two quarters of
bacon behind him, were to make a sudden irruption through
another part of the encampment, and thus convey to the
garrison the relief for which they famished. The attempt
was thoroughly successful. The Albanian horse, under the
lead of Fontrailles, darted through the lines of the English,

BATTLE OF GUINEGATTE. 329

surmounting all resistance, and advanced to the fosse of
the town, where each trooper threw down his burden.
Wheeling about, they were quite as successful, at full gal-
lop, in making their way back to a place of safety. In
this brilliant, but dangerous attempt, they suffered but little
loss. But it soon became necessary again to supply the
garrison, and in the same manner. The siege was a tedi-
ous one, lasting more than a month ; and the obstinacy of
the defence, which delayed the progress of the invaders
through France, was an object, in itself, which justified any
degree of hazard in its attainment. But a second attempt
upon the patience, or the vigilance of the besiegers, did not
prove quite so fortunate as the first. There were certain
spies employed by the French, whom the English succeed-
ed in buying over to their purposes. These betrayed the
scheme, and advised the enemy of the day on which it was
to be put in execution. The event which followed has
been frequently reported, to the discredit of the French
chivalry.

The English laid an ambush for them on one side of the
river Lys, at a place called Guinegatte. Here, with six
thousand archers, four thousand lansquenets, and eight
pieces of artillery, they lay in waiting for the approach of
the French gens d'arms. These, some four hnndred in
number, were despatched to the heights of Guinegatte, so
as to draw upon themselves the attention of the besiegers,
while Fontrailles, with the Albanian horse, should again
penetrate, with their supplies, to the fosse of the besieged
city. The gens d'arms were given to understand that their
object was not to fight with the enemy, but to employ and
divert his attention. When, accordingly, they encountered
the ambush, they naturally wheeled about to retreat. But
not allowed to do so at their leisure, by the pressure of the
English cavalry, the retreat became a flight, and, though
composed of some of the best gentlemen of France, who
had long before, and frequently, distinguished themselves in

EE*

330 PANIC AND FLIGHT.

battle, a panic took place among them, and they flew in such
wild haste, as to throw into similar disorder the rearguard
of their own body, which was drawing nigh to their support,
under the conduct of the Duke de Longueville and the
Sieur de la Palisse. With these came Bayard and other
captains, such as were not to be frightened easily ; but,
maugre their presence and all their efforts, the panic-strick-
en fugitives continued their flight to Blangy, where the in-
fantry lay. The brave men paid the penalties of the timid.
They threw themselves between the pursuing cavalry of
the enemy and their fugitives ; and, by opposing themselves
to the unequal struggle, they succeeded in saving the army
of the French. It was at their own expense. The Duke
de Longueville was already a prisoner, with many more.
Bayard, first among those who sought to arrest this dis-
graceful flight, was the last to bring up the race. Forced
to retire, as the others had done, he did so slowly ; and,
with but fifteen knights, succeeded still in repulsing the as-
saults of the pursuers, and keeping his forlorn squad togeth-
er. Reaching a narrow bridge, where but two men could
pass abreast, he stopped short, and told his companions
that it was possible to secure the passage for half an hour.
Then, sending one of his archers at full speed to the camp,
he bade him say to the captain, that they must put the
army in order of battle, and make a prompt but stealthy
march toward the spot which he occupied. His scheme
was, when the enemy came down upon him in all the dis-
array of the pursuit, to encounter them unexpectedly with
the army of the French, cool and properly prepared, and
take them at surprise and disadvantage. Meantime, the
cavalry of the Burgundians and Hainaulters drew nigh ; and,
finding themselves so stoutly and successfully withstood by
such a handful as that upon the bridge, were exceedingly
enraged. Some were sent back to bring on the archers,
while a couple of hundred cavaliers, following the course
of the stream, at length found a crossing-place near a mill,

BAYARD A PRISONER. 331

which brought them round in the rear of our hero. Fight-
ing gallantly with the foe in front, he found himself sud-
denly enclosed on both sides, and by a force, with which,
even with fresh steeds, and unwearied arms, he would
not have found it possible to contend. While he meditated
surrender, in order to avoid the certain death which must
follow the arrival of the archers, the enemy set upon his
little troop with cries of "Burgundy! Burgundy!" The
French sped across the bridge, and each trooper, at the ad-
vice of Bayard, made his surrender to the individual ene-
my whom he first encountered. One by one, they yielded
themselves — all but Bayard, who, as he left the bridge for
the plain, caught a glimpse of a hostile cavalier, in hand-
some attire. This person, thinking the fight was over, and
not caring to make prisoners, had taken off his helmet, and
thrown himself, in heat and exhaustion, at the foot of a
clump of little trees. To the consternation of the sluggish
knight, our chevalier spurred directly upon him, and point-
ing his sword to his throat, cried out to him in a voice of
thunder, "Yield, cavalier, or you die!" Never was good
knight so thoroughly dismayed and confounded. To be
made a prisoner by one of a party, whom, at that very mo-
ment, his own followers were capturing oil all hands, was
certainly an event which it had never entered his imagina-
tion to conceive. But the case was urgent, — and very
much chagrined, he answered,

" Well ; since I am taken thus, I suppose I must surren-
der ! But who are you ]"

" I am," said our good knight, " Captain Bayard, and it
is I, sir, who surrender to you. Be pleased to take me
with you. Here is my sword ; — but do me this kindness,
to let me have it back should we meet with any English,
who may offer at my life."

The gentleman, whom, by this time, we may suppose
perfectly cool, was highly delighted at this new relationship
between himself and the stranger, and readily promised

332 A NEW CASE.

every thing. It was well that the condition had been re-
quired ; for both of them, before the English camp was
reached, were compelled to use their weapons upon some
of the stragglers, whose chief occupation seemed to be the
destruction of those who, as the captives of others, could no
longer do them hurt, or pay them ransom.

The knight by whom Bayard had been taken, lodged
him, with great respect and distinction, in his own tent.
Here, after the lapse of four or five days, his captive said
to him, " My good sir, I shall be right glad if you will give
me a safe conduct to the camp of my own people, for I am
truly wearied with remaining here."

" How say you ?" said the other. " "We have not yet
treated of your ransom."

" My ransom !" exclaimed Bayard, with a look of aston-
ishment, whether he entertained the feeling or not. " Your
own ransom, you mean. It is you who are my prisoner.
You surrendered to me; and if, after you gave me your
word, I then yielded myself up, it was to save my life from
others, not from you. Your's was at my mercy !"

Here was a ruse de guerre. Our excellent gentleman,
who had so prematurely paused to cool himself and take
his rest before the battle was quite over, was now thor-
oughly in amazement. He had never quite understood the
nature of the proceeding by which our knight had first
made his introduction; and when Bayard added to these
words the threat, that, if he did not now keep his word, he
certainly should make his escape if he could, and hold him
personally accountable hereafter, the obtuse islander knew
not well what reply to make. The renown of Bayard had
reached his ears, and that was of a sort to make him
question the policy of risking himself in a conflict with one
who had the credit of being such a thorough master of
fence. When he found his tongue, he answered, very
courteously, that he was desirous of dealing fairly with the
Lord of Bayard, but that the case was quite a new one to

THE KINGri AND THE CAPTIVE. 333

him, and must refer it to the other captains. This difficulty,
for the first time brought it to the knowledge of the camp
that the famous Chevalier Bayard, the knight sans peur et
sans reproche, was a prisoner. The intelligence was pro-
ductive of as much delight as if it were in consequence of
a great victory. He was sent for by the emperor, who had
been one of his admirers in times past, when he served
under him at the abortive siege of Padua. Maximilian had
not forgotten those times. " My friend," said he, " it gives
me great pleasure to see you. Would to God I had many
such as you. I should not then fail in requiting the good
offices of the king your master." Then, after a pause, he
said, playfully, " I believe, my Lord of Bayard, we once
made war together. Methinks at that time it was said
that Bayard never fled in battle."

The answer of our knight was prompt — " Were I given
to flying, sire, I should not be here now."

At this moment the King of England made his appear-
ance, who, on being introduced to Bayard, treated him
with great cordiality. Henry was then but a young tyrant.
His claws had not fully grown. He was ambitious of
glory, and took much delight in the graces and the pomps
of knighthood. The fame of Bayard was quite as well
known to him as to Maximilian, and neither of them was
disposed to withhold his compliments and acknowledg-
ments. But this did not prevent them from making merry
at the recent defeat of the French knights at Guinegatte —
a battle, by the way, which received the curious title in
history of that of " the spurs." Henry spoke very scorn-
fully of the spirit which they displayed in this affair,
observing that he had never seen men fly so nimbly when
chased by so small a number. The emperor seconded
these sentiments.

"On my soul," replied Bayard, "the gendarmerie of
France ought in no wise to have the blame of this affair
ascribed to them, for they had express orders from their

334 THE DECISION.

captains not to fight. It was apprehended that, if you
offered battle, you would bring your whole force with you,
as in fact you did, and we had neither infantry nor ord-
nance." There was some pride in the spirit in which he
added, " That the renown of the French nobility for spirit
and conduct was known throughout the world, and was not
now to be disputed successfully. I do not mean, most
high and mighty lords, that you should account me of their
number."

" In good sooth, my Lord of Bayard," said Henry, " if
they were all of your mettle, they would soon force me to
raise the siege of Theroiienne. It is well for us that you
are our prisoner."

" Sire," replied Bayard, " I do not allow that, and would
gladly appeal on the subject to yourself and the emperor."

Upon this, the gentleman to whom he had yielded
himself was summoned to the presence, and Bayard, in
his hearing, made a statement of the whole transaction,
the other fully confirming his details. The question
was full of subtleties. It was a new case for the doctors
learned in the law. The two royal personages looked
at each other, and the great king, who could argue the
case, to his own satisfaction, at least, against a Luther, does
not seem to have been quite as prompt in settling this of our
captain. The emperor was the first to break the silence.
He declared that, in his opinion, our knight was not the
captive, but rather the captor. But he conceived that the
quid pro quo had been fully rendered by the gentleman
whom he had so fortunately caught napping. He held the
parties to be quits, and that our good knight should be al-
lowed to depart whenever the King of England thought
proper. This was considered a very lucid decision by that
august and reasonable personage, who was liberal enough
to determine that Bayard should remain on parole for the
space of six weeks, not bearing arms in that time, but
permitted to enjoy himself by a stroll through Flanders.

BAYARD IN FLANDERS. 335

Our good knight seems to have been quite satisfied with
the arrangement. It is probable that he himself was not
so well content with the force of his own arguments
against captivity, until they were adopted and made clear
by Maximilian. He thanked the two sovereigns for their
condescension and justice ! Henry was anxious to win
him over to his service ; and many offers were made him,
which would have proved too persuasive for most of the
knighthood of his age ; but his heart was with his own
land. His reply to these solicitings has been quoted, as a
happy instance of patriotic sentiment — made beautiful by
its very simplicity. He said, finally, to those who sought
him — " I have but one Heavenly Master, who is God — but
one master upon earth, who is the King of France. I
have no wish to serve any other." His reply, in that day,
declared the true military spirit also, and was the just re-
buke to the loose morals — to say nothing of patriotism — of
an age, when even princes were prepared to hire them-
selves, and sell their people, to do the battles of other
nations. He never forgot the lessons of duty impressed
upon his memory by the counsels of his father, and by all
the training of his youth.

Bayard used his six weeks profitably, at the expense of
his purse. He won the affections of his enemies. Ram-
bling among the Hainaulters and Burgundians, in the do-
minions of the emperor, he was always surrounded by
brave gentlemen, whom he knew how to feast sumptuously.
They honored his fame — for his achievements had already
grown into fame ; and when they found this reputation asso-
ciated with the most admirable good-fellowship, they were
unwilling that he should ever leave them. But he lingered
not an hour beyond that to which he had been pledged by
the King of England. At the expiration of this time, he
returned to France, escorted by a numerous attendance,
until within three leagues of the French territories. Mean-
while, Theroiienne had been surrendered to the besiegers,

336 CLOSE OF THE CAMPAIGN.

the garrison having yielded to famine rather than the sword,
and being admitted to good conditions. The contest within,
and beneath, its walls, was discontinued for a season. Henry
found his conquest of very little moment to the grand re-
sult. He had harassed the realm of France ; he had
gained nothing for his own. His measures betrayed a total
ignorance of the art of war. He suffered himself to be
beguiled by Maximilian into laying siege to Tournay — the
conquest of which would accrue rather to the benefit of the
grandson of the emperor than to the English — when he
should have pressed forward to the very gates of Paris ;
where, expecting nothing less, Louis had caused the trades-
men and mechanics of the city to be mustered into service,
and uniformed as foot-soldiers. Never was France in such
great peril, and never so completely relieved by the blunders
of its enemies. The Swiss had penetrated Burgundy with
a formidable army, and had laid siege to Dijon, at the very
moment when the arms of Henry and Maximilian were
triumphant in Picardy. They were met by the veteran
Tremouille, governor of Burgundy, who seduced them
into a negotiation, in which they were completely out-
witted. Tournay was conquered by the English, after a
short delay; and, with these successes, the King of England
returned to his own dominions, and the emperor to Ger-
many. And thus closed the campaign of the year 1513,
the army of France being disbanded, and the troops posted
in garrison along the frontiers of Picardy.

CHAPTER XXX.

THE close of the life of Louis XII. was clouded with mis-
fortunes. We have already seen how melancholy were the
results of that ambition which had carried frequent armies
for destruction to the seductive plains of Italy. We have
shown how narrowly, at the close of this campaign, the
territories of France escaped from the common ravages of
the English, the Germans, and the Swiss — escaped rather
because of the wretched inexperience and inferior judg-
ment of the invaders, than in consequence of the resources
of the French monarch to contend against them. Other
events accompanied and followed these, which tended
still farther to distress this great prince, and to cloud the
sunshine in the evening of his life. His ally, James, king
of Scotland, was defeated and perished on the fatal field
of Flodden, while Louis himself was struggling doubtfully
against the English 011 his own territories. The close of
the year brought home the remains of his several garrisons
in Italy, and, at the opening of the next, death seized upon
his wife, Anne, duchess of Brittany and queen of France.
This princess was very justly lamented by her nobility
and people. She died young, not having completed her
thirty-eighth year. She was meek and bountiful, virtuous
and well accomplished. Her pleasure consisted in doing
good. Her court was the asylum and the school of purity,
so much so, that the most illustrious families of France
gladly confided their daughters to her keeping as maids
of honor. She was the widow of Charles VIII., and his-
torians, contrasting her history, while his wife, and as the
wife of Louis, have observed a great discrepancy in her

FP

338 THE TOURNEY.

character. To the former she is described as mild and
obliging, and Charles frequently sacrificed her to his pass-
ing fancies. To Louis, who was devoted to her will, she
exhibited a more imperious humor; to characterize the
effects of which, he was wont to call her " his Britoness."
But this did not impair her virtues or his recognition of
them. His attachment was justly founded upon her qual-
ities of mind and heart. The discrepancy remarked by
the historians, who do not often condescend to analyze the
constituents of personal character, might readily be recog-
nized by a proper examination of all the circumstances
in her career during the two reigns. Her death was bit-
terly felt and lamented, but, as our chronicler phrases it,
" whoso would have her virtues and her life worthily set
forth must pray God to raise up Cicero for her eulogist in
Latin, and Master Jean de Meung for the same in French,
none of the moderns being equal to such performance."*
But a royal sorrow is not long suffered to interfere with
the wishes of a nobility or the interests of a kingdom ; and
before the expiration of the year we find the Duke de
Longueville — who, taken with Bayard at the battle of
Guinegatte, was carried a prisoner to England — negotiating
a marriage between the widowed sovereign of France
and Mary, the sister of the King of England. She was
espoused by Louis at Abbeville. The nuptials were cele-
brated at Paris by rejoicings the most magnificent. For
upward of six weeks, the joust and tourney took the
place of those scenes of actual warfare which they were
designed to prepare for and to imitate ; and in these, as in
the latter, we find Bayard, Maugiron, Chandieu, and

* We ask, with wonder, after the works of a modern whom we find, dur-
ing an age which could appreciate the Latin of Cicero, ranked with the
mighty master of Roman eloquence. Jean de Meung, of whom we know
but little, was also named Clopinel. He finished the Romaunt of the Rose,
which had been begun, in verse, fifty years before by Guillaume de Loris,
and afterward turned into prose and augmented with many allegories by
Jean Molinet.

FRANCIS THE FIRST. 339

others, taking the field successfully against all competitors.
But these pomps and festivities, though natural enough to
the celebration of a bridal, agreed neither with the phys-
ical nor the political condition of the French king. He
sickened in the midst of them, and died in two months
after, leaving an enfeebled empire, an impoverished peo-
ple, and many dangerous enemies, to his successor. But
he died in the odor of popular sanctity. He had been a
protector of the people, upon whom, during his whole
reign, he had imposed no taxes. He had been the first
monarch of France to protect the peasantry from the ra-
pacity of the soldiery, who were before accustomed to
plunder them with impunity. Well might they call him
the "Father of his People" — a title which no one would
have been found to question, had the prosperity with which
his reign had opened been continued to its close. But the
fruitless sacrifice of wealth and blood in Italy — the san-
guinary victories which brought him glory at the expense
of more substantial possessions, and the evil consequences
of his vain ambition for conquest, which were entailed
upon his kingdom, for the trouble of future years — must
necessarily qualify, in some degree, the honorable title
which his subjects conferred upon his name. Louis was
but fifty-six years old when he died. He was suc-
ceeded by Francis I., who was but twenty when he
ascended the throne, and the favorite of the nobility, as
Louis had been of the people. Francis had but just es-
poused the Princess Claude, the eldest daughter of Louis,
by Anne of Brittany. He was anointed with the conse-
crated oil at Rheims, on the 25th January, 1514 ; and went
from Rheims to St. Denis, to be crowned. A magnificent
entry followed, into Paris ; the twelve peers of France, or
their substitutes, officiating according to their duties in the
consecration, the crowning, and the exhibitions of chivalry,
by which the great event was celebrated. Tilts and tour-
neys succeeded, as a matter of course. Francis was a mag-

340 A NEW INVASION.

nificent king, as well as an ambitious one. In the former
respect he differed largely from his predecessor. He made
a progress of state through his dominions, which was every
where marked by the most extravagant display. We shall
not adopt the details of the chroniclers ; nor did such
tiiumphs seriously employ his mind. Differing greatly
from Louis XII., he yet inherited his hungering desire
for the possession of the duchy of Milan, and he already
meditated the preparations for its conquest. A peace had
been negotiated with England ; a treaty was adjusted with
the Archduke of Flanders, who was betrothed to the Princess
Renee, the sister of Francis. The widow of Louis, Mary
of England, much to Henry's disquiet, became the wife
of Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk ; and, while the
realm of France exhibited nothing but an aspect of peace
and joyance, the arrangements were in progress for con-
ducting her chivalry forth, under the lead of their sovereign
himself, once more in pursuit of conquest over the passes
of the Alps.

The commencement of the reign of Francis brought for-
ward our chevalier upon the theatre of political events. One
of the first acts of the new king was to make him lieutenant-
general of his native province of Dauphiny — an appoint-
ment which gave quite as much pleasure to the people
governed as it gave to the governor. Here he recruited
his command, and awaited the preparations and the ap-
proaches of the king. He was not suffered long to remain
in Dauphiny. The army of France was already in motion
for the Milanese. It was destined to defile secretly by the
Lyonese, the vanguard being led by our hero. With his
own command, with some three or four thousand foot-
soldiers, he led the way to the confines of Dauphiny.
Here, reaching the territories of the Marquis de Saluzzo —
territories now held, with the exception of one strong
castle, by Prospero Colonna, lieutenant-general of the
Pope — Bayard commenced a vigilant inquiry into the

11AYARD IN COMMAND. 311

various modes by which he could expel the enemy. Co-
lonna had the whole country subject to his contributions,
while all the strong places were held by his Swiss merce-
naries. Bayard soon discovered, by his spies, that, though
in common soldiers he was fully equal to his enemy, he
was far inferior to him in horse ; Colonna having at com-
mand a chosen body of three hundred gens d'arms, to say
nothing of another force of light-horse, all of which were
admirably equipped and mounted. This was the very arm
of which Bayard was the acknowledged master ; and, feel-
ing himself deficient in this respect, he immediately sent
despatches to the king, stating his deficiencies, and re-
questing an additional force of cavalry, in order to effect
his objects. In compliance with this demand, the three
distinguished captains, La Palisse,Humbercourt, and D'Au-
bigny, were ordered to join him with their companies. The
first of these was a marshal of France, the two others
general officers ; all of them superior in rank and length of
service, yet all of them willing to fight under his orders !
Here, then, is an admirable example and lesson to that
wretched self-esteem, which withdraws its strength from
the support of its country when its dignity is supposed to
be outraged. These brave noblemen had no repugnance
to serve under the orders of the younger soldier. We
hear of no sullenness — no resignations — no murmurs —
no complaints. The truly patriotic soldier regards the
claim of his country as the great consideration, and his
own as secondary wholly. He feels no jealousy of his
more youthful captain ; opposes no scruples — no reluct-
ance— to a service which is always honorable if the cause
be so, and which, where the duty is present, never regards
the agency by which it is commissioned to be done. By
the time that these three captains had reached the post
occupied by Bayard, he had succeeded in gaining such
intelligence of the movements of Prospero Colonna as to be
able to employ them in immediate service. They found

F F*

342 ENTERPRISE.

him at a little town called Savigliano, in the plain of Pied-
mont. He received them with equal courtesy and affec-
tion ; and, after they were sufficiently refreshed, addressed
them thus : " Gentlemen, we dare not loiter here. To
delay is to endanger the knowledge of our enterprise ;
and, if once suspected by Colonna, it must fail. He will
either retire or summon the Swiss to his succor, of whom
there is a goodly number at Pignerol and Saluzzo. We
must have our horses well fed to-night, and be prepared to
despatch our business with the break of day. A deep
water lies between us and our prey ; but there is a ford,
and I will find you a guide." They wrere all mounted a
few hours after midnight, silently, and while the stars were
shining. Colonna was within Carmagnola. His spies
brought him news that the French were out; but, ignorant
of the reinforcement that Bayard had just received, he felt
no apprehension. Still he thought it but prudent to take
his departure the next morning, pursuing his wray very
leisurely toward the little town of Villafranca, seven or
eight miles distant, where he prepared to dine. Our cap-
tains were greatly disquieted when they reached Car-
magnola and found that the bird had flown.

But Bayard determined to pursue. " Since we have
come so far," said he, "we may go a little farther. We
shall hardly fail to gather some of them, let us find them
where we may."

" Perdy," said Hwmbercourt, " never man spoke bet-
ter."

La Palisse and D'Aubigny were ready, and the Lord of
Morcte was sent forward in disguise to gain intelligence.
He made good speed and soon brought them tidings that
Colonna would dine and take his siesta at Villafranca.
This information gave our captains a fresh impulse for pur
suit. Our good knight sent Humbercourt forward with an
hundred archers, he following at longbow-shot with his
hundred gens d'arms, while La Palisse and D'Aubigny

THE SURPRISE. 343

brought up the rear. Colonna was not without good spies
also. He was on his way to mass in Villafranca, when told
that the French were abroad in force. He answered indif-
ferently that " such could not be the case, unless they had
crossed the mountains with wings — that it could be no oth-
er than the company of Captain Bayard, which was too
small for any enterprise." But, as he returned from mass,
the report became more circumstantial. One of his spies
assured him that he himself had seen more than a thousand
gens d'arms pressing on the route to Villafranca. Colonna
was now alarmed, and sent out twenty horse to reconnoitre
the road to Carmagnola. Meanwhile, he hurried his quar-
termaster, bade his trumpets sound, and made his arrange-
ments to seek his lodgings at Pignerol. He lingered un-
wisely to discuss his dinner. The scouts, whom he had
sent out on the road to Carmagnola, were encountered by
Humbercourt with his archers, dispersed and pursued, Bay-
ard closely following, with his gens d'arms, on the heels of
his archers. The chase was so hotly urged that the two
parties reached the gates of Villafranca together, and a
conflict ensued at the entrance, in the endeavor to close it
upon the pursuers. The arrival of Bayard put an end to
this struggle. The gate was won, and the French dashed
through it. Here they found the quartermaster of Colonna
already mounted, with some of his gens d'arms, preparing
to set forth for Pignerol. These put themselves on the de-
fensive, but were soon cut to pieces. Meanwhile, Chaban-
nes and D'Aubigny coming upr occupied the two gates of
the place, but not before a couple of Albanians had succeed-
ed in crossing the drawbridge and running, as though the
foul fiend wrere at their heels, to communicate the tidings
to a column of some four thousand Swiss who were station-
ed only three miles distant. Colonna, meanwhile, apprised
of his danger, hastily buckled on his armor and prepared
for his defence ; but when he heard by what force he was
surrounded, and by what captains it was conducted, he

344 PROSPERO COLONNA.

yielded, under the most poignant anguish, to his misfor-
tune. He could not hide his mortification from his enemies;
" but, cursing his fate, that he should have been thus sur-
prised, he deplored that God should not rather have suffer-
ed him to meet his foes upon the open field." Bayard kind-
ly endeavored to console him, saying, " Such is the fortune
of war, my Lord Prospero, which he who enters upon the
game must expect to incur — winning one day to lose the
next. But, as for your wish to have met us in the open
field, I can safely aver that it is much better for you as it is ;
for such was the fury and appetite of our men for the com-
bat, that, in such an event, it would not have been an easy
matter for you or any of your people to escape."

" I should have been right glad," was the answer, " to
have confronted even so much peril, had it been the Lord's
pleasure."

The peculiar awkwardness of this affair to Colonna arose
from one of his own incautious speeches. He had threat-
ened, while Bayard as yet had no more than his hundred
gens d'arms, that he should soon or late have the good knight
in his trap, as a pigeon in his cage. Bayard, no doubt, had
heard of this boast, but he was too generous to taunt his
captive with it.

The booty of this conquest was immense. The prisoners
were many of them men of distinction, and they had ransoms
to pay. There were, besides Prospero Colonna himself,
the Count of Policastro, Pi&ro Morgante, Carlo Cadamarto,
and other persons of military rank and importance. Six
or seven hundred horses were among the spoils, four hun-
dred of which were coursers, or Spanish horses, at that
time of great value. Colonna was afterward heard to say
that his defeat on that occasion cost him no less than fifty
thousand crowns in gold and silver plate, coin, and other
chattels. The treasure gained by the captors was estima-
ted at an hundred and fifty thousand ducats. The neces-
sity of a precipitate retreat lost them much more which

FRANCIS CROSSES THE ALPS. 345

was otherwise available. They were soon apprised that
the Swiss infantry, in the Italian service,Nwere pressing for-
ward, at full trot, for the rescue of the place and captives.
Selecting, therefore, the most valuable of the spoils, and
placing their prisoners before them, they went forth at one
gate of the town, while the Swiss penetrated the other.
But the command of Bayard, with their prisoners, being
all mounted, laughed at the proximity of their enemies,
which was devoid of danger. Francis I. was even then
crossing the Alps by a passage known only to a peasant,
and by which no army had ever crossed before. The
usual avenues were by Mont Cenis and Mont Genievre,
and these were occupied and guarded by the Swiss. The
news of the capture of Colonna was as exhilarating to the
young monarch as was the mountain of St. Paul, whose
summits he then occupied. It was auspicious, he might
well regard it, of the future. It encouraged him to press
forward with all diligence, and the army of France was
in Piedmont and at Turin, while the Swiss awaited them

at the ancient passes.

P*

I-

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1

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE army which Francis I. led into Italy was one of the
finest that France had ever sent into the field. It consisted
of two thousand five hundred men-at-arms — a force which,
fully equipped, implied some fourteen or fifteen thousand
horse. Besides these, he had, of mounted troops, the gentle-
men of his body-guard, the officers of the household and
their several followers, with a considerable number of vol-
unteers, who joined the army at their own charges. His
infantry was composed of two-and-twenty thousand Ger-
man lansquenets, eight thousand French pikes, and six
thousand Basques and Gascons, with three thousand pio-
neers, and a numerous train of artillery. The vanguard
was confided to the Constable de Bourbon ; the " battle"
was commanded by the king himself; the rearguard was
led by the Duke d'AlenQon. The dukes of Lorraine and
Vendome, D'Aubignv, the Bastard of Savoy, D'Orval, La

PROGRESS OF THE FRENCH. 347

Tremouille, Lautrec, the Duke of Gueldres (who had the
chief command of the German foot), Claude de Guise,
brother of the Duke of Lorraine, with the " Good Knight,"
Bayard, accompanied the kinir. Francis had raised this
powerful army by the sale of judicial offices and other un-
justifiable means. He gained Genoa by the intrigues of
the Constable de Bourbon; confirmed a former alliance with
the Venetians, and made an offer to treat with Ferdinand
and Maximilian ; not so much with the hope of engaging
their amity as with the wish to compel them to declare
themselves. But his overtures, as he anticipated, were
fruitless in both instances. The Pope, filled with selfish
purposes himself, for the promotion of his o\vn family, and
having no apprehensions of so young a prince as Francis,
would have remained neutral, but was finally compelled
to accede to the league against him, formed by the emperor,
the King of Spain, the Duke of Milan, and the Swiss — but
this was only after subsequent events had made him alter
his opinion of the new French monarch. Thus, with a
clear knowledge of friends and foes, and with seemingly
ample resources, Francis I. made his way into the bosom
of Piedmont.

The Swiss were very much mortified that the French
had escaped them. It seemed as if they felt that some dis-
grace had fallen upon their arms, and they longed for an
opportunity not only to punish the latter for the contempt
which they had shown for their ancient allies, but to grap-
ple with the Black Bands and the lansquenets, whom they
regarded as rivals in the trade of blood. They withdrew
from the passes which they had unnecessarily guarded, and
retired into the Milanese, plundering whom they could,
without regard to the interests of friends or foes. The
progress of Francis increased their vexations. Received
honorably and joyfully in Turin by his uncle, the Duke of
Savoy, he passed through several places which yielded to
his arms without the offer of opposition. Novara, the scene

348 THE SWISS.

of that terrible defeat, which every soldier of the French
army regarded as a personal disgrace, yielded the keys of
her citadel. It was at Marignan that Francis made a
pause, pitched his camp, and opened a negotiation with the
Swiss. This proceeding was adopted at the suggestion of
the Duke of Savoy, who believed that every thing could be
done with the Swiss by means of money, and who properly
sought to prevent the effusion of blood. Had Francis
determined rather upon fighting them, he would probably
have gained all that he could have done by treaty. Their
terms were sufficiently extravagant, but the desire to disarm
them was such as reconciled the young and chivalrous
monarch of the French to the conditions. But they were
not suffered to conclude the treaty. The influence of the
Cardinal de Sion, always the bitter enemy of the French,
his specious eloquence, and adroit counsels, prevented its
ratification. Sounding the tambourine, he gathered the
simple but mercenary mountaineers around him, and
preached to them as a fox does to the chickens. He suc-
ceeded in provoking their hatred and their cupidity to-
gether. The negotiation itself had given them great ad-
vantages ; for while it was in progress their numbers were
increased by the arrival of Host, one of their greatest
warriors, with twenty-five thousand men. This reinforce-
ment, with the exciting arguments of the Cardinal de Sion,
determined them to reject the treaty, and to resume hostili-
ties. A spy of Lautrec, in the camp of the Swiss, conveyed
to the French a knowledge of a treachery which they had
determined upon, by which they were to slaughter their
enemies, yet realize most of the advantages of the treaty.
This put the latter upon their guard ; and Francis was now
quite as willing to come to an engagement as before he
had been anxious to avoid it.

It was the afternoon of the day, on the 13th of Septem-
ber, 1515, when, terribly excited by the arguments of their
leaders, the Swiss, with more than their usual impetuosity,

THE JBA'J'TI.L. 349

but still in perfectly good order, rushed out of Milan to en-
counter the French army on the plains of Marignan. Fran-
cis was about to sit down to supper, when Fleuranges gal-
loped in with a message from the Constable de Bourbon,
who commanded the vanguard, that the enemy was upon
them. The king immediately hurried on his armor, put
himself at the head of his division, and hastened to the
field. The skirmishing had already begun, and with great
spirit, between the opposing armies. The constable had
committed the guard of the artillery to the lansquenets, not
only because they were good soldiers, but because he well
knew that the hatred existing between themselves and the
Swiss would make them fight with more desperation than
opposed to any other foe. In the front of the guns a fosse
had been dug to increase the difficulties in the way of an
assault upon the artillery ; the loss of which, at Novara, had
been the loss of the battle. Remembering that event, and
the success which had attended their efforts against this
arm of their enemy, the Swiss naturally directed their
greatest energies to a repetition of the like performance.
The French cavalry were so placed as to act upon the
flanks. The Swiss, meanwhile, came on with perfect
silence and in great steadiness. As if disdaining any other
martial influence than that of hatred, they had left behind
them their drums and fifes, bringing no other music into the
field than the ancient horn, with which their primitive ances-
tors had been wont to call up equally their flocks and their
foes. The artillery of the French opened upon them with
a destructive fire, which they bore with unflinching firm-
ness ; and still they advanced upon the guns in most admi-
rable order. Bourbon immediately discovered the game
they were disposed to play, and saw that they were about
to attempt the desperate manoeuvre of Novara, seizing the
ordnance and turning it upon its owners. He accordingly
marched out some companies of lansquenets to the support
of the artillery. Upon these, without seeming to regard

OG

350 CHARGE OF THE SWISS.

the French cavalry, the Swiss darted with all the fury of a
hatred that seemed to take the form of insanity. The
Germans, it appears, had conceived a most unfortunate
suspicion that the treaty between their employers and the
Swiss had been completed, and that they were to be sacri-
ficed to their implacable enemies. The attack, thus seem-
ingly made upon themselves alone, contributed to increase
their suspicions. They gave ground in dismay, and, re-
treating behind the fosse, suffered the Swiss to enter with
them, and actually to get possession of four of the guns.
The constable saw his danger, and the fatal consequences
which would ensue, if it was not promptly and adequately
encountered. Accordingly, giving the signal to the gens
d'arms, they charged the Swiss in flank with great effect.
Bayard was one of the leaders in this onslaught, fighting,
wherever the necessity was most urgent, and always with
success. In the mean time Francis himself came up with the
Black Bands, and made a vigorous assault upon the oppo-
site flank of the enemy. These occurrences were sufficient
to disarm the Germans of their fears and suspicions. They
recovered their courage, and attempted to regain their
former position. The Swiss were finally driven beyond the
fosse, and the guns once more permitted to open upon their
columns. They were shaken, but not dispirited, and
though certainly they had lost by the first assault, this event
was not important to the final issue. They presented still
an aspect the most formidable ; their close ranks, from
which the long pikes projected, seeming impregnable, and
challenging attack. The Constable de Bourbon, at the head
of the cavalry of France, charged them repeatedly without
being able to disorder or break their array. It was in vain
that the chief leaders, furious from disappointment, returned
again and again, until almost exhausted, to the assault.
The Swiss, baffled in their own first attempt upon the guns
of the French, had been taught prudence in their rage, and
were now prepared to see that nothing but the most per-

NIGHT COMBAT. 351

feet steadiness and coolness could ensure them either victory
or safety. They beheld unmoved the fierce onset of their
chivalrous assailants, their long pikes bristling out at their
approach in a levelled line, as evenly and closely as the
antennae of some mighty animal that instinctively protrude
for its defence at the coming of the foe. At length, sound-
ing a fierce and final assault of his cavalry, the French king
himself advanced with two hundred of his gendarms, charg-
ing one of the wings of the Swiss, consisting of a battalion
of four thousand foot. With this division came Bayard,
and other of the best captains of France. The manoeuvre
was executed with so much spirit and force, and so oppor-
tunely, that the division was wholly routed. The gendarms
penetrated the mass on every hand, and it was only by
casting down their pikes and crying "France!" that the
battalion escaped destruction.

But this decisive success did not necessarily determine
the conflict. Night came on, and she sees no cowardice.
The battle raged as furiously as before. The uniforms of
the French and Swiss were very much alike — each of
them bore a white cross ; the Swiss being farther dis-
tinguished by carrying, as a badge of the Pope of Rome,
the keys of St. Peter. The dust which had been raised
by the storm of the conflict rendered the twilight still
more obscure, and, for a time, the fight was discontinued
from the absolute impossibility of distinguishing friends
from enemies. But when the moon rose, she afforded
sufficient light for combatants resolved on slaughter.
The Swiss, having no cavalry, could always find a foe
in the gens d'arms. These, however, could not always
distinguish their own people. This difficulty nearly
lost Francis his life ; for, uttering the word " France"
before a body of foot, supposing them to be lansquenets,
he called up a host of pikes to his breast, one of which
penetrated his buff coat. A timely recoil from the point of
danger alone saved him. "With the renewal of the con-

352 INTERREGNUM OF BATTLE.

flict, the Swiss once more turned their assaults upon
the French artillery. Upon this point they concentrated
all their power, and here the battle raged with its utmost
intensity. To this central object necessarily drew nigh all
the great hearts of either army. La Tremouille, who
had determined that no second Novara should dishonor
the arms of France, and his son, the Prince de Talmond,
never stirred from this perilous post. Here, too, was
Bayard to be found, always foremost where the danger
was most imminent, and always making his way triumph-
antly wherever his sword descended. Terribly earnest
was the fight — without cessation or positive result — till the
going down of the moon, a little after midnight, left the
combatants in utter darkness ; and, knowing not where to
strike, the parties, with a ferocity still unassuaged, but
with limbs enfeebled and exhausted, threw themselves
down upon the field, even where the fight had found them,
to snatch a little rest, if not repose, until the dawn of
another day should arouse them once more to their toils of
blood. There they lay, side by side — the Swiss, the French,
the German and Italian — not daring to move, or raise a
cry, lest it should rouse a foeman rather than a friend,
and direct him where to seek his victim. Such a condition
of things in battle was probably never seen before. Fran-
cis himself endured this very peril. Surrounded by some
of the nobles who had kept close all day to his person, he
laid himself down upon the carriage of a gun. Greatly
exhausted by his fatigues, bruised by numerous blows,
and slightly wounded by a pike-thrust, he needed and
enjoyed the rest of that field of blood and danger as greatly
as any of his subjects. Here he asked for some water.
It was brought him in a morion, but so mingled with blood
that his sickening stomach revolted as he carried it to his
lips. At this moment it was discovered that the place
where he lay was within fifty steps of the main body of
the Swiss. But it was more perilous to attempt to retreat

BAYARD'S ADVENTURE.

than to remain where he was. The torch, whose light had
led them to this discovery, was instantly extinguished, arid
the rest of the night was passed in doubt and darkness.
Meanwhile, Bayard had passed through an adventure
equally strange and perilous. At the close of the last
attack which he made upon the Swiss, in defence of the
cannon, he was mounted on a mettled courser, being the
second which he had crossed during the combat, the first
being killed at the very opening of the action. While
closely surrounded by pikes, and hewing his way among
them, the bridle of his horse was rent away from the head
of the animal, probably by the interposition of their points,
or, possibly, severed by the sharp edge of a weapon. The
horse, utterly freed from all restraint, and terrified with the
conflict, darted headlong through the Swiss as he never
would have done under any guidance, and, passing one of
their bands, would have carried our knight as recklessly
into the bosom of another, had not his career been arrested
by some vine-stocks in the field, which were fastened from
tree to tree. Bayard, cool and observant, in the midst of
his danger, well knowing that to fall into the hands of the
Swiss was certain death, quietly glided from the back of
the trembling animal, threw off helmet and tasses, and stole
along, following the fosse, and guided by the occasional
shouts of " France," which told him where to look for
friends. He reached the camp in safety, where the first
person he met was the Duke of Lorraine, utterly amazed
at seeing him in this condition, and on foot. The duke
immediately provided him with a horse, one of remarkable
character, which Bayard himself had won at the battle of
Brescia, and which he had left for dead at the battle of
Ravenna, with two pike wounds in his flanks, and more
than twenty sword-cuts on his head. It was taken for
granted, when the beast fell, that he was mortally hurt. But
the day after the battle he was found on his legs grazing;
and began to whinny, in joyful recognition, at the approach

G G*

354 RENEWAL OF THE COMBAT.

of his friends. He was brought, in consequence, to Bay-
ard's lodging, and there tended carefully till healed. Such
was his almost human sagacity, that he quietly submitted
to the dressing of his wounds ; but ever after, it is stated,
whenever a sword was flourished before his eyes, he would
strive, with the most decided expression of ferocity, to
seize it with his teeth. The statement is no ways incredi-
ble. Horses have been known to exhibit a like antipathy
to men. " Was never seen," says our "Loyal Servant," " a
more courageous beast since the days of Bucephalus."
He was called Le Carman. This famous steed, which
Bayard had formerly presented to the Duke of Lorraine,
was graciously bestowed upon him again. Rejoiced at
being so well mounted, he began to feel another want,
which was not so easily supplied, that of a helmet. To go
bare-headed into another brisk action was out of the ques-
tion. He proceeded, accordingly, to supply himself by a
ruse, which had its excuse at that moment. Observing the
helmet of one of his friends in the hands of a page, he
said to the former — " Let me have your head-piece while
you rest from it. I am afraid of catching cold, having
been so profusely sweated." The innocent gentleman
consented, never doubting that it would be restored to him
before the time when he should need it. But as Bayard
had no intention to forego the battle of the next morning, so
he had no idea of restoring the head-piece. He found the
fit a good one, and it continued to please him till the close
of the battle, which lasted till noon the next day.

With the first flushes of the dawn the combatants were
once more astir, both parties being equally soon in order.
The battle was renewed by another attempt of the Swiss to
possess themselves of the artillery. In this attempt they
performed prodigies of valor. The lansquenets and Black
Bands finally yielded before their impetuous, self-sacrificing
fury, and were driven back. But the well-directed fire of
the guns, served by Galiot de Genouillac, opened their ad-

THE VICTORY. 355

vancing ranks in so destructive a manner, that the gen-
darms were enabled to pour into the several gaps, arid to
make terrible havoc in the heart of their several squares and
columns. The tide of battle was settling decidedly against
them, but the valor of the Swiss was not to be quenched,
even in their own blood. They fought on with desperate
energy, and, finding it impossible to break through their
enemies in front, they detached a part of their force, with
instructions to make a certain circuit, and to fall upon the
rear of the French. The manoeuvre was well performed,
but was not successful. The detachment encountered the
troops of the Duke d'Alencon, which had not hitherto
been engaged, and these, reinforced by the bowmen of Ar-
mand de Prie, gave them so warm a reception, as totally
to rout and drive them back. The vital struggle was now
over. The victory was with the French. The Swiss re-
tired from the field, still in good order, and still showing
their teeth, but leaving fifteen thousand of their best troops
on the field of battle. The French also paid heavily for
their triumph ; above six thousand of their force perished,
among whom were several distinguished victims — Francis
de Bourbon, brother of the constable ; Bertrand de Bour-
bon Carenci; the Prince de Talmon-d ; Pierre de Gouffier
Boisy, and the gallant Humbercourt. The king was fre-
quently in great peril, and more than once owed his safety
to a select body of his gendarms. A battle more stub-
bornly contested has seldom been witnessed. Two days
and a night were consumed in almost uninterrupted con-
flict. Trivulzio called it a fight of giants ; and said that
all the battles which he had ever witnessed were mere
children's play, when compared with it. It was the first
battle of a youthful monarch, and it made him famous as a
warrior.

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE Swiss dispersed as soon as they lost sight of the field
of battle. The French did not offer to pursue them, aware
of the policy which should forbear unnecessarily to goad to
desperation the still powerful foe. Francis had yet another
policy. He did not care to continue the quarrel with the
Swiss, which he had inherited from his predecessor. They
might be useful to him yet, and this was the suggestion of
Bayard. They were left free, accordingly, to retire to their
mountain fastnesses. Many of them did so ; some went to
Milan, and all but two companies escaped. These, less
prudent, or more reckless, took up their quarters at a little
village but a short distance from the field of battle. Hither
they were followed by the advance guard of the French,
by whom they were summoned to surrender. They an-
swered, with a ferocity heightened by the bitternes of de-
feat and despair, that their enemies should by this time have
been taught that the Swiss knew how to .die, but not to sur-
render. A conflict ensued which justified, on the part of
the vanquished the resolute defiance of this answer. They
were not to be overcome — they might be destroyed. The
strife was not one in which humanity could be heard.
The parties were quite too much embittered against each
other to suffer any interposition of mercy. The town was
fired over the heads of the defenders, and they perished to
a man in the conflagration or the fight. Let us return to
the plain of Marignan.

The victory being certain, Francis ordered a chapel to
be raised on the field of battle in commemoration of his
gratitude to God for his triumph. With the old spirit of

BAYARD KNIGHTS FRANCIS. 357

chivalry, of which he was an ardent disciple, he determin-
ed to receive the honors of knighthood on the field where
he had so gallantly won his spurs. There was a two-fold
reason why he resolved that no hands but those of Bayard,
the knight sans peur et sans rcproclie, should bestow the
accolade. The good taste of the monarch at once indicated
to him the propriety of choosing for this duty the most mod-
est hero, and the most perfect model of knightly virtue of
the times. Besides, the signal valor of Bayard, and his
great services in the field just \von, entitled him fairly to
this compliment. Our chevalier was summoned to his
presence.

" Bayard, my friend," said the king, " I desire this day to
be knighted, and by your hands. The knight that has fought
on foot and on horseback, in many battles, is justly held as
most worthy to perform this duty. Thus hath it been with
you — seeing that in divers battles and conquests you have
combated against many nations and always valiantly."

The king having thus declared his wish, Bayard modestly
hesitated. " Sire," said he, " the king of so noble a kingdom
as yours is already a knight above all other knights."

" Nevertheless," replied the king, " you will do quickly
what I ask thee. Tell me not of laws and canons here, save
those of steel, and brass, and iron. Do what I entreat
thee, if you wrould have me reckon you my good fiiend and
subject."

" In good sooth, sire, since such is your pleasure," answer-
ed Bayard, " I will gladly perform this duty, unworthy as I
am, not once but many times."

Then Bayard took his sword, and as he laid it upon the
shoulders of the king, he said —

" Sire, may this ceremony be as efficacious as if it weie
performed by Roland or Oliver, Godfrey or his brother
Baldwin. Verily, you are the first prince that ever I dub-
bed a knight. God grant that you never turn your back
in battle."

358 THE SWORD OF BAYARD.

This done, Bayard, lifting his sword to his lips and kiss-
ing it, exclaimed, in a sort of sportive rapture, " Certes, my
good sword, thou art thrice fortunate this day, in that thou
hast conferred the accolade on the bravest and greatest king
in Christendom. Verily, my good sword, thou shalt hence-
forward be kept as a thing sacred, and honored beyond all
other relics. Here, upon thy hilt, I vow never to use or
wear thee, unless in battle against the infidels ; never again
will I turn thy keen edge against any people who bear the
Christian name !" With these words, and leaping up in
the exultation of his spirit, he then returned the consecrated
weapon to its scabbard.*

Francis, thus authorized, then proceeded to confer the
same honor on such of his young companions-at-arms as
had merited his favor by their deportment in the battle.
A great number were knighted. Three days were passed
upon the field, in the performance of these ceremonies, and
the burial of the dead. The army then marched upon
Milan, the people of which threw open their gates, while
Maximilian Sforza, the duke, retreated to the citadel,
which was well supplied with provisions and ammunition,
and reputed to be the strongest in the world. The Swiss,
who had fled to Milan, shut themselves in with him, and
prepared to defend the castle to the last extremity. The
siege was instantly commenced and plied with vigor, and,

* This sword has been lost. Charles Emanuel, duke of Savoy, requested
it of the heirs of Bayard. One of them, Charles du Motet, lord of Chichi-
liane, sent him, in lieu of it, the battle-axe which the hero had been wont to
use. The duke, writing to this gentleman of Dauphiny, remarked that, "in
the midst of the pleasure which he felt at beholding this weapon placed in
the worthiest part of his gallery, he could scarce choose but regret that it
was not still in the hands of the rightful owner." Some authors suggest
that Bayard conferred knighthood upon Francis before, and not. after, the bat-
tle of Marignan ; but the " Loyal Servant" is explicit, and other writers
agree with him. At one time in his life, the period not precisely known,
Bayard conferred this honor on the son of the Duke of Bourbon, then in the
arms of his nurse. This was done at the request of the prince, whom our
knight happened to visit at Moulines.

THE MILANESE CONQUERED. 359

after a brief defence, the place was surrendered by capitu-
lation, Sforza yielding his castles of Milan and Cremona,
and renouncing his ducal rights in favor of Francis, who
took him under his protection, promised him a yearly
stipend, and pledged himself to use all his influence to
procure for him the hat of a cardinal. Sforza retired to
France, where he died in 1530. The Swiss in the
garrison were paid by Francis the arrears due them by
their late employer, and an amnesty was signed including
all persons who had taken part with the duke. By this
treaty Francis became master of the whole of the Mila-
nese. He made his entry into the city in the ducal
robes, accompanied by five princes of the blood, and at
the head of two thousand horse and twenty-four thousand
foot. Here he received the faithless assurances of the
authorities, and heard for a week the clamorous protesta-
tions of fidelity on the part of a people, who had violated
their oaths quite as often as they had made them. The
victory of Francis astounded his enemies. The Spaniards,
who, suspecting the good faith of the Pope, had kept aloof
from peril, now retired upon Naples. From the timid
Maximilian no farther demonstrations of valor could be
expected, and, even the Swiss, though growling in their
mountains, showed no alacrity in seeking another combat
The ascendancy of Francis in Italy was now sufficiently
decided to prompt the Pope to yield with a becoming
grace what he was no longer in condition to withhold.
He proposed a treaty by which he relinquished his preten-
tious to Parma and Placenza, and withdrew such troops
of his as were in the service of the emperor. In return
for these concessions, the French kinp: made him a cession
of Bologna, and secured to him the exclusive supply of salt
from Cervia. This treaty was followed by an interview
between the Pope and Francis, which took place at Bo-
logna on the 10th of December. The conference occupied
three days, in which Leo succeeded in persuading the

300 MAXIMILIAN IN THE FIELD.

French monarch to postpone for the present any attempts on
Naples, and endeavored to engage him in a war upon the
Turks, offering him, by way of inducement, the imposing
title of Emperor of the East. Francis, though young, was
not so weak as to grasp at a shadow, while he had more sub-
stantial objects, and more obvious duties before his eyes.

Having accomplished, to all appearances, the puipose
for which he had invaded Italy, he returned to France,
leaving the Constable de Bourbon at Milan, in the capacity
of lieutenant-general. Disturbances were threatened on
the part of England, arising from the machinations of the
Cardinal of Sion ; and Henry VIII., but for the good
faith and good sense of the English council would, in all
probability, have violated his pledges, broken the treaty with
France, and once more embarked in an invasion of the
territories of his neighbor. As it was, he could not be pre-
vented from furnishing money to assist in an enterprise
for the recovery of the Milanese on behalf of Francis, the
brother of Maximilian Sforza.

The money of England, the specious promises of Fer-
dinand of Spain, and the vehement exhortations of the
Cardinal of Sion, soon persuaded the Emperor Maximilian
to take the field for this object. To the surprise of every
body, this sluggish warrior, and most mercenary of princes,
suddenly appeared in the field in person, with an army of
sixteen thousand lansquenets and fourteen thousand Swiss,
of such of the cantons as were not included in the league
with France. Lautrec, with his own and the troops of
Venice, was about to reduce the garrison of Brescia, when
it was relieved by six thousand Germans, whom Count
Roguendolf succeeded in throwing into the town. The
French and their allies (the Venetians), who were totally un-
prepared for any such enemy, retired to Milan, which the
constable put into the best possible posture for defence.
Succors were demanded from France. They were promptly
sent, and, with them Bayard returned once more to the field

PROGRESS OF THE WAR. 361

of his frequent prowess. He had previously returned to
Dauphiny, and resumed its government as lieutenant-gen-
eral. With the French forces came a large body of Swiss
auxiliaries, thirteen thousand in number, under one of their
most celebrated leaders, Albert de la Pierre. These presented
a formidable foe to Maximilian, the progress of whose arms
was by no means so rapid and successful as his prompt ap-
pearance in the field had taught the world to expect. But
the intrigues of the Cardinal de Sion were more decisive
in their effects than the genius of Maximilian and the valor
of his army. He succeeded in dissuading the Swiss merce-
naries of the French from fighting against their own people ;
and this resolution encouraged the emperor with the belief
that the French were in his power. He sat down before
Milan, threatening the people to raze it to its foundations;
but, before he had done much toward this wished-for con-
summation, his own and the money of Henry of England
was nearly exhausted. The Swiss demanded their stipends;
their officers forced themselves into the emperor's bed-cham-
ber to urge their demands; and, so alarmed him, that he
seized an early opportunity to decamp from a proximity so
dangerous. Setting off at midnight, with only two hun-
dred horse, he left his army to shift for itself. Before his
flight was discovered, he was beyond pursuit. He had
performed, as we remember, a similar feat when besieging
Padua. His fame depends upon such. The Swiss indem-
nified themselves by assessing the country, while the Ger-
mans fled before the assaults of the Count de St. Pol,
Montmorenci, Lescun, Bayard, and other leaders. Bayard,
we are told, took a great many prisoners ; but the " Loyal
Servant," coolly adds that the ransom of Swiss and German
was in pike and dagger only. The conquest of the Milanese
was succeeded by the death of Ferdinand the Catholic, of
Spain. By this event France was relieved of a faithless
and vindictive enemy. Nor did the emperor long survive
him. Ferdinand was succeeded by Charles V. The death

HH

362 ROBERT DE LA MARCK.

of the Emperor Maximilian left vacant the throne of the
empire, and thus furnished the sovereigns of Europe with
a new apple of discord. Charles was the successful can-
didate, and Francis bitterly felt the disappointment. Up
to this period the King of France had entertained the kind-
liest feelings for Charles. He now prepared to transfer
them to Henry VIII. We all have some sufficient recol-
lection of the famous " field of the Cloth of Gold," where
these two potentates, long adverse to each other, joined in
a fraternal embrace ; which, however, implied but a moder-
ate degree of brotherly love. Meanwhile, events were in
progress which again threatened to disturb the peace of
Europe. The benign dispensation of peace was not des-
tined for a long duration. It was while Bayard was in the
quiet enjoyment of his government of Dauphiny, that he
was summoned by the commands of Francis once more to
put himself in harness of war. The occasion of these new
necessities may be told in few words, though these require
us, in some degree, to retrace our steps. Among the
friends and adherents of Francis, not of his own people,
were Robert de la Marck, lord of Sedan, by whom the
Black Bands had been commanded ; and Francis Sickin-
ghen, a German adventurer, of extraordinary genius and
courage, who led an independent corps of his own. Both
of these persons, in consequence of some neglect or in-
justice on the part of Francis, went over to Charles V., and
contributed, in considerable degree, to the election of the
latter to the throne of the empire. But Robert de la Marck
subsequently became reconciled to the French monarch ; and,
having suffered some indignity at the hands of Charles, was
vain and audacious enough to send the latter a defiance,
menacing his dominions with invasion. He followed up
this defiance by actual inroads into the territory of the new
emperor, which brought down upon him a powerful army,
at the head of which were the Count of Nassau and the
German adventurer, Francis Sickinghen. Charles com-

BAYARD AT MEZIERES. 363

plained to Francis of the proceedings of* his ally, De la
Marck, and demanded if they were countenanced by him.
Francis disclaimed all sanction of what De la Marck had
done, arid enjoined him instantly to lay down his arms.
De la Marck did so, in the full conviction that his forbear-
ance would disarm the emperor's hostility. But no sooner
had he deprived himself of the means of defence, than the
Count of Nassau took advantage of his position, to pursue
his attack with redoubled activity and fury; and, in a short
time, wrested from De la Marck nearly the whole of his ter-
ritories. This done, he marched a part of his forces upon
the territory of France, captured the French town of
Mouzon, and hurried on to the siege of Mezieres.

This proceeding could neither be endured with safety
nor with patience, and Francis immediately began his prep-
arations to repel the intruder from his domains. His army
was so disposed as to cover all the points most accessible
to attack. To Lautrec was assigned the government of
the Milanese ; the defence of Champagne was committed
to the Duke d'Alencon ; the charge of Picardy was con-
ferred upon the Duke de Vendome, and the Admiral Bon-
nivet was sent to Guienne. Mezieres, an extremely weak
place, badly fortified and feebly defended, was committed
to the Chevalier Bayard at the moment when, Mouzon
having been won, the Imperial troops found all the ap-
proaches to it open. Its fate would have been sealed with-
out an offer of defence, but for the opinion of our " Good
Knight." Francis called a council to determine what
should be done. The weakness of the place was urged as
a sufficient reason for its abandonment. Bayard alone
opposed this decision. " No place is wreak," said he,
"which has good soldiers to defend it." He was forth-
with entrusted with the commission, and threw himself at
once into Mezieres. Thus feeble, and thus threatened,
the defence could not have been given to better hands.
This conviction was universal. The appointment at once

364 HIS ENERGIES.

enlivened the confidence of the country. The name of
Bayard was already a spell-word for the youthful chivalry
of France, the most gallant of whom immediately crowded
forward to serve under his banner. Young Montmorenci,
afterward the constable, Charles Alleman, lord of Laval,
Gaspard Terrail, the lord of Bernin, and many more of
noble and gentle blood, sought with avidity a place which
they knew must soon become the scene of glory. Bayard,
seizing upon the moment of enthusiasm, swore them and
the chief citizens " never to speak of surrendering to the
enemy — exacting from them a pledge to die one arid all in
defence of the place. If food failed them, they were to eat
their horses and their boots." This spirit extended from
the officers to the soldiers. The latter said, among them-
selves, " And the beasts once devoured, we will eat our
lackeys." But this spirit did not endure throughout the
siege. Some of them, as we shall see hereafter, were not
equal to the privation and danger which it implied.

Bayard proceeded, as soon as he reached Mezieres, to
increase and improve its defences. Night and day was he
employed, not spaiing any of his people, in the erection
of the necessary works. No labor, however humble, was
forborne — no faculty, or talent, or agent, left unemploy-
ed— and more than six thousand crowns of his own money
— in all probability all that he had or could command —
were expended in making the place tenable. It was the
habitual rule of our good knight to sacrifice every thing per-
sonal to his considerations of duty — to give himself up thor-
oughly to the work in hand, well knowing that there is no
triumph unless the heart be wholly devoted to its objects,
and the whole soul be delivered to the cause which it es-
pouses, at the utter sacrifice of self. " What, sirs," he ex-
claimed to the young knights around him, as he thus justi-
fied the exaction of their physical labor, and gave it his own
example, " what ! shall this goodly town be lost through
our fault and non-performance, — we who, altogether form

SIKGK OF MEZIERE3. .365

so noble a company, and one consisting of so many noble
persons ? It is only by this work that we may hope to
contend with our enemy. Were we in the field, with a
ditch of four feet only between us and the foe, metbinks
we could baffle all their forces for a day at least, and not be
defeated. Now, God be praised, we have ditch, and wall,
and rampart, on which, before our enemies can possibly
set foot, there shall many a band of them lie sleeping in
these trenches."

Their very nobility was rendered a reason why they
should engage heartily in this labor. It was not taken in
vain ; a few days were to test its value. These brought the
Count of Nassau, with twenty thousand men, and the Lord
Francis of Sickinghen, with fifteen thousand, who, occupy-
ing opposite sides of the river Meuse, proceeded to the
leaguer of the town. The seemingly defenceless place —
seemingly defenceless, almost under any circumstances,
against so large an army — was summoned to surrender.
The herald who brought the demand on the part of the
two generals of the emperor, represented to him in consid-
erate terms, how impossible it was to hold the place against
such a power as theirs. They were aware that the great
and laudable spirit of chivalry which filled the heart of
Bayard would prompt him almost to attempt impossible
things, but they warned him that the capture of the place
by storm would not only be a great diminution of his fame,
but might also cost him his life. They urged upon him
other tender considerations, and offered him favorable and
honorable conditions, to persuade him to surrender.

Bayard smiled as he listened, but took no time to con-
sider the demand.

" My friend," said he to the herald, " I am overwhelmed
by the condescension of my lords of Nassau and Sicking-
hen, in showing such a tender interest for the safety and re-
•nown of one with whom they have had so little intercourse.
You shall return to them, friend herald, and say that the

H H*

366 GREAT JOHN OF PICARDY.

king, my master, had in his kingdom many captains much
abler than myself, to whom he might have committed the
defence of this little town of Mezieres ; but since he hath,
of all these, conferred the honor of this trust upon me, I
shall value it as something too precious to be suddenly
abandoned. Tell your captains, that they shall sooner
weary of its assault than shall I in its maintenance. I am
no child whom horrid words will frighten ; and they shall
find, that when it shall so happen that we can make this
town tenable no longer, we shall then hope to leave it over
a bridge made of our enemies' bodies." To Francis of
Sickinghen, in particular, Bayard sent the pleasant mes-
sage, that " The French Bayard, while he acknowledged
the valor, had no fear of the German War Horse — the nom
de guerre which Sickinghen had acquired.

When this answer was carried back to Nassau and Sick-
inghen, there was present a captain named Great John of
Picardy, who knew the character and the resources of
Bayard much better than either of the former. He said to
them openly : " This knight Bayard will give you trouble
before you take Mezieres. Nay, you need never expect
to enter it while he remains alive. I know him. I have
often followed him to battle. He is that sort of person,
who, if the people under him were the greatest cowards in
the world, would be sure to make them brave. Depend
upon it, they will die in the breach, all of them, and he
among them, ere we set foot in this town. For my part, I
should rather he were away from Mezieres, though the
King of France should put two thousand good soldiers in
his place."

The Count of Nassau was somewhat piqued at this
hearty commendation of his enemy. " Captain Great
John," said he, " The Lord of Bayard is, I take it, of no
more steel and iron than is other men. If he be such
a warrior as you speak him, it will need all his fortune
to keep Mezieres for the next four days, against the

THE SIEGE OF MEZIERES.

storm of shot which I shall hurl against him from every
side !"

" We shall see," was the answer of the captain from
Picardy ; " but you will hardly find the upshot of this bus-
iness such as you look for."

Count Nassau did his best to give the lie to the predic-
tions of this plain speaker, and opened his batteries, which
were well served, from both sides of the river. It is said,
by Mezeray, that bombs were first brought into practice
during this leaguer of Mezieres. Certain it is, that the
bombardment was sufficiently terrible and destructive, — so
much so, that some of the garrison, whom we have seen
taking a solemn pledge, before the siege began, to defy all
its vicissitudes and dangers, however extreme, resolved no
longer to partake of a defence which was so desperate.
In spite of the threats and entreaties of their commanders,
two whole companies deserted, in a body, through a breach
which the enemy's artillery had made in the wall. This
event did by no means discourage or disconcert our hero.
He coolly called together the remainder of his troops, and
congratulated them on being freed from the presence of
those who only encumbered the defence, and who might
have claimed a share of the honors which they had not the
gallantry to win. "Let them go — such rascals are better
far than near. The more the glory to those who remain !"

And the garrison resumed the defence with as much
spirit as if they had suffered no loss, and were in no dan-
ger. The details of this defence are only credible as they
are consistent with all that is known of Bayard's previous
career. His resources never seemed so ample as now,
when his hopes rested almost wholly on himself. His
ordnance was so well served, his sallies so rightly timed
and rightly directed, and conducted with such equal dis-
cretion and bravery, that the besiegers seemed to gain
nothing by all their batteries, though the walls every day
betrayed the efficiency of their artillery, and the constancy,

368 BAYARD'S EXPEDIENTS.

with which it was employed. In less than four days, more
than five thousand shots were discharged. But the breaches
in the walls were repaired as if by magic. There was no
diminution of the spirit or the industry of the garrison.
The night served to remedy the mischief of the day ; and,
for six weeks this little town — which it was not thought
possible to hold for twenty-four hours — with a force
which did not exceed a thousand men, baffled an army of
thirty-five thousand, having an ample supply of heavy artil-
lery. Well might the assailants show a feeling of weari-
ness, if not of shame. It was, probably, about this period
that they desired to know what quantity of provisions
remained to the garrison. Accordingly, Captain Picart,
already mentioned, sent a trumpet to Bayard, as his old
companion-in-arms, to ask him for a bottle of wine. The
sagacious commandant divined the proper object of the
message. He took the trumpeter into a large cellar, well
filled with hogsheads, from one of which he drew two
bottles, without being at the pains to explain to him that
all the rest were filled with water. The garrison, indeed,
were in grievous straits. Provisions were failing rapidly.
Disease was making fearful ravages among the troops and
people, and there was no apparent prospect of relief. It
became necessary for Bayard, always fertile in resources,
to devise some new expedient for raising the siege. He
conceived the idea of sowing dissensions between the two
camps of the enemy. This was done by a letter, addressed
to Lord Robert de la Marck, then at his castle of Sedan —
the only one of which the imperial army had left him the
possession — ingeniously worded, to produce an impression
on Sickinghen (should it fall into his hands, as it was the
purpose of Bayard that it should) that he was about to be
sacrificed by his colleague. There were some jealousies
already existing between the parties, in regard to the
command, an intimation of which had reached Bayard, and
of which he promptly proceeded to avail himself. His

SUCCESS OF THE STRATAGEM. 3G9

letter ran thus, after some preliminaries relating to the
siege, of which we are already in possession : — " If I re-
member rightly, my dear lord, you said to me, some six
months ago, that you would find the means to persuade
the Count of Nassau, your former friend and ally, to enter
the service of the king, my master. He is reputed a very
gallant person, and I should truly rejoice if this could be
accomplished. You will do well to see him on this sub-
ject, and better to-day than to-morrow. It will be well
for him, and will please me, should he prove of your way
of thinking ; for I must tell you that, if not, he and his
camp will all be cut to pieces within the next four-and-
twenty hours. Within three short leagues we have
approaching an army of twelve thousand Swriss, and
eight hundred gendarms. To-morrow, at the break
of day, they purpose falling upon his camp, while, on my
side, I shall make a sally from the town, and he must
be dexterous and fortunate, indeed, to escape us both.
Make the most of this information, but be sure arid keep it

secret.'

The peasant, to whom the letter was confided, fell, just
as Bayard had devised, into the hands of Sickinghen. The
artifice succeeded. The heart-burnings of Sickinghen
were now permitted to take a voice and declare themselves.
He swore a bitter oath that "My Lord of Nassau should
no longer carry it as he pleased. He seeks my destruc-
tion,"— was his language to his chief officers, to whom the
insidious epistle was displayed. They concurred with him
in opinion, and, without more ado, he caused the drums to
sound a retreat, and prepared to cross the river to the camp
of his colleague and superior. Tidings to this effect were
carried to the Count of Nassau, who, in great surprise, sent
word to him to desist from what he had determined on, until
they had first conferred together. " Away to the Count of
Nassau," cried the suspicious and indignant Sickinghen, " and
say to him that I will not for his pleasure remain here to

Q*

370 THE SIEGE RAISED.

be slaughtered. Let him attempt to hinder me from taking
up my station near him, and arms shall decide between us
who is to be master of the field." This message was of a
character to confound the count, who immediately began to
array his troops in order of battle. Those of Sickinghen,
as they crossed the river, were also put in order for the
fight. Bayard and his captains beheld the whole scene
from the walls of Mezieres. In the excitement of Sickin-
ghen, or probably with his consent, the peasant, whose
intercepted letter had done the mischief, had been allowed
to escape, and, in fear and trembling, presented himself to
the delighted commandant. His fears were expelled by the
undisguised merriment of Bayard, who laughed obstreper-
ously as he beheld the excellent results which had followed
the meditations of Sickinghen upon his letter to De laMarck.
Nothing could have worked better for his objects. There,
before his eyes, were the two camps in hostile array,
drums beating and trumpets sounding with great vehe-
mence, and the opposing parties eager to take each other
by the throats. " Perdy !" exclaimed our knight, " since
they will not begin the battle, I must ;" and he opened a
cannonade among them. This had the effect of driving
them to their tents. The explanation which followed, be-
tween the parties, came quite too late to repair the mischief.
The delay which was occasioned in the leaguer, by this
artifice, enabled Francis to throw a powerful relief into
Mezieres, while the Duke d'Alencon advanced the main
body of his army to within a few leagues of the place.
The predictions of Captain Picart were realized. The
assault was never attempted. The siege was raised, and,
baffled thus admirably in Champagne, the imperial troops
turned their fury upon Picardy, pillaging and destroying
wherever they came.

This defence of Mezieres greatly extended, if it could
not increase the reputation of Bayard. Francis visited
him in his camp, conferred upon him the collar of St. Mi-

HONORS OF BAYARD. 371

chael, and endowed him with the command-in-chief of a
company of an hundred men-at-arms — an honor which had
hitherto been conferred only on princes of the blood. All
France resounded with his eulogies ; and, as the winter ap-
proached, having followed the king to Paris, he was waited
upon by a deputation from the parliament, whose members
conveyed him the thanks of the nation. The event which
secured him these compliments became, long afterward, the
subject of a public fete among the people whom he had so
well defended ; and which they continued to celebrate on
each anniversary of the siege.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

FROM Champagne the imperial troops proceeded to-
ward Picardy, their progress being traced in outrages of
the most revolting kind. Francis pursued them at the
head of his army, taking Bayard with him. Mouzon was
retaken ; and, but for a malign influence which had for
some time interfered with the proper councils of the French
monarch, the Emperor Charles himself, who had met his
retreating army at Valenciennes, would have fallen into his
hands. Francis desired eagerly to come to blows with his
wily rival and enemy, and threw a bridge across the Scheldt
for this purpose. The Count of Nassau appeared to dis-
pute the passage. A thick fog prevented the French from
ascertaining the number of the force which the former
brought with him, and the hesitation which this doubt
inspired, and against which all his tried veterans argued
earnestly, prevailed to deprive Francis of a golden oppor-
tunity which fortune a second time never offered to his
grasp. The emperor discovered his danger in time to
escape it, by a precipitate departure from his position.
The same evil influence which had led to this disappoint-
ment succeeded in prompting an injustice, on the part of
the king, to a powerful subject, which contributed to future
disasters. De Bourbon, as constable of France, claimed
the right to command the vanguard of the army while
crossing the Scheldt. It was coldly denied him, and
given to the Duke d'Alencon. This, and other wrongs,
done to the same noble person, were destined to bring the
monarch to a perilous defeat, and the most humiliating
captivity. But of this hereafter. The successes of the

DISQUIETS IN ITALY. 373

French continued. The Duke de Vcndome penetrated
into Aitois and Hainault, took and dismantled Bapaume
and Landrecies, and ravaged the country quite as effectu-
ally as the imperialists had done that of Picardy. Bonni-
vet, who had been despatched with a considerable force of
lansquenets to the succor of the young King of Navarre,
by a series of rapid exploits captured several places of im-
portance, and laid siege so vigorously to the strong fortress
of Fontarabia, as in a short time to compel its capitulation.
Meanwhile, an attempt was made at negotiation, and for
the reconciliation of the contending monarchs, under the
auspices and arbitration of Henry VIII., or, rather, Cardinal
Wolsey; but the proceeding came to no beneficial conclu-
sion. The winter passed in skirmishes, which were gener-
ally favorable to the French ; and no events of present im-
portance requiring him at the seat of war, Bayard attended
the king to Paris, from whence, after a brief sojourn, he
proceeded to Grenoble, enjoying, in his native province, the
affectionate admiration and attachment of his people.

But, with the approach of spiing, the affairs of Italy
grew clouded. Lautrec, who governed in the Milanese,
revolted the people by his barbarities, and the fickle Ital-
ians sighed once more for the restoration of the Sforzas.
Lautrec was succeeded by his brother Lescun, the mar-
shal de Foix ; but this change brought no improvement.
The indiscretions of the governor were endless. The
principal citizens of Milan were banished, and the number
of exiles, voluntary or constrained, became so great as to
draw upon them the persecuting regards of Lescun, even
in the places where they had taken refuge. Some of
them had found shelter in the Pope's city of Reggio. He
pursued them thither, and besieged the place, but was
baffled by the defence. This proceeding afforded a pre-
text to Leo X. to break with the French and conclude a
treaty with the emperor. The result was a resumption of
activity by all those who loathed the French authority, or

Ii

374 BAVARD SENT TO GENOA.

were interested in its overthrow. These inquietudes in
his Italian dominions, disturbed the security of Francis,
and, while he gave his attention to other places, he chose
Bayard, as one of the most prudent and sagacious of his
captains, to proceed to Genoa, which had betrayed and
shown a factious disposition. The commission of the king
was couched in the most flattering language. " I entreat
you to undertake this charge for the love you bear me. My
greatest hopes are in the efficacy of your presence." The
commission was as cheerfully accepted as it was graciously
conferred. Bayard crossed the Alps, and was well re-
ceived at Genoa by the governor, the nobility, and the
people in general, all of whom showed him the greatest
deference and attention. What was the particular charge
assigned him in Genoa — what duties he performed, and
services he rendered, have been kept from the histories.
His commission was, most probably, a secret one. This
he seems to have executed satisfactorily. On leaving
Genoa, he joined the army of Lescun, marshal de Foix,
who was now preparing with all energy to repair, by arms,
the evil consequence of his own and his brother's admin-
istration of the Milanese government. The forces of the
emperor and the Pope were strengthened by those of the
Marquis of Mantua, the ancient and firm ally of Louis XII.
He, too, had been driven from the side of France by the
ill-treatment of her government in Italy. A large body of
Swiss had also been subsidized for the armv of the allies,

*/

by the intrigues of the Cardinal of Sion ; and the fertile
plains of Italy were again to be made the theatre in which
the people of other countries were to play out their parts
in blood. To oppose these enemies, Lautrec, who had
now resumed the government of the Milanese, had his own
army of French, the troops of the Venetians, and a levy
of Swiss which had been made on the first aspect of dan-
ger. The return of Lautrec was a signal for the renewal
of those odious severities, which had already made the

THE WAR IN ITALY. 375

French so unpopular. They were doubly impolitic in the
moment of impending conflict. The campaign in the Mi-
lanese was begun ; and, on the eve of an action near Re-
becque,the Swiss were withdrawn from their banners by the
artifices of the Cardinal de Sion. This uncompromising
enemy of the French had succeeded in intercepting the
orders of the Helvetic body to the Swiss in both armies,
commanding them to repair instantly to their homes. He
suppressed the despatch intended for the Swiss serving
among the allies, and suffered those only to be received
which were addressed to the stipendiaries of the French.
The latter submissively obeyed the order, and, as they
left the one army, the cardinal had the address to secure
their services for the other, alledging that it was the ser-
vice under the French banner, only, that was forbidden by
the Diet. Lautrec thus deserted, by a large part of his
troops, almost in the moment of engagement, was com-
pelled to retreat upon Milan. Closely pursued by his
enemy, he continued his retreat to Como, and from Como
to the Venetian territories. Italy was once more lost to
the French, at a moment when Francis had every reason
to believe that he \vas about to find Henry VIII. arrayed
with his numerous enemies against him. The death of
Leo X. at the close of this year, was an offset to this evil
intelligence. If not always an open, Leo had always been
the secret foe of the French. He was jealous of the am-
bition of Francis, and he had his own. He was succeeded
by Adrian, cardinal of Tortosa, a man of feeble will and
irresolute character, who soon showed himself the rancor-
ous enemy of France, and the ally of the emperor, of
whose boyhood he had been the preceptor.

Francis determined to renew the war. He was not less
reluctant than his predecessor had been to abandon his de-
signs upon the Milanese. Lautrec was again unwisely
commissioned as the leader of this new campaign. La
Palisse marched a levy of sixteen thousand Swiss across

376 THE SWISS COMPEL A BATTLE.

the Alps to his assistance, and the French army was once
more in the field, with new hopes and unshaken courage.
After several small successes, they laid siege to Milan.
But the place was strongly fortified, and admirably defend-
ed by Prospero Colonna. It was in vain that the French
strove equally against the citadel and the walls of the town.
His efforts were unavailing, and, convinced of the hopeless-
ness of the attempt, he withdrew his forces, and found an
easier conquest in the city of Novara. Here he was joined
by additional forces brought him by his brother. Among
these were Pietro de Navarro and our chevalier, Bayard.
Joined by the forces of Sforza, Colonna marched to Bi-
cocca, where he took up a very advantageous post. "This
place consisted of a castle, situated in a spacious park,
which had formerly been used as a chase by the dukes of
Milan. It was surrounded by deep ditches, well fortified,
and but a league from the city of Milan. Lautrec, after
reconnaissance, wisely resolved not to attempt it. But this
prudent decision was altered in consequence of the mutin-
ous temper of his Swiss. These troublesome mountaineers
were impatient for their pay, which had been withheld by
the griping avarice of individuals who virtually wielded the
French government at home. Francis had become the
creature of his own debaucheries, and the sword of the
enemy was but too frequently sharpened for the throat of
his country, by some fair minister of his passions. The bad
faith of the ministers, furnished Lautrec with only too good
an excuse for his ill-fortune and evil management. His
Swiss, clamorous for their money, required, failing in this,
either to be led against the enemy, or suffered to depart.
It was in vain that the French commander pointed out to
them the great strength of the post which Colonna occu-
pied. They insisted on the alternative which they had sub-
mitted, and rather than lose one half of his army, he con-
cluded to do worse — obey its orders. However reluctantly,
he gave the signal for the action at daybreak on the follow-

THE BATTLE. ^77

ing morning. Montmorenci led the advanced guard, Lau-
trec commanded the battle, and the Duke of Urbino brought
up the rear. The Swiss were chiefly with the first divi-
sion. Montmorenci, having reached a defile near the en-
trenchments, would have waited for his artillery. But the
Swiss despised artillery. They would wait for nothing.
They felt their power, and were insolent in its exercise.
They would fight only as they pleased ; and, tumultuously,
with their usual impatience, they rushed forward to the as-
sault. Colonna was every where prepared for them. His
spies had faithfully reported events, and he knew where to
expect them. His artillery and musketry opened upon
their advancing masses with destructive effect. Whole
files were swept away as fast as they drew nigh. It was
in vain that any of them reached the fosse ; since the en-
trenchments were too high for their pikes, which were
vainly thrust up from the ditches against the defenders.
The carnage was dreadful. Three thousand of the Swiss
perished, and among them their famous leader Albert de la
Pierre. Montmorenci was badly wounded. His com-
mand paid dearly for their insolence.

Meanwhile, the gendarms, among whom, and at the head
of whom, was Bayard — led by De Foix — had forced their
way into the entrenchments. They might have maintained
themselves in them — might have retrieved the battle — had
they been supported by the Swiss of his division. But, in-
solently rash on the one hand, the mountaineers were in-
solently cold and indifferent on the other. The devoted
gendarms, after a fierce struggle, were either put Jiors de
combat, or expelled from the entrenchments. Colonna, see-
ing the advantage gained, directed a sally to be made for
the purpose of taking the Swiss in flank. The manoeuvre
was fortunately defeated by Pontdoray, who, with another
body of gendarms, met the troops sent upon this enterprise
and defeated and drove them back with loss. This event,
in some degree, saved the credit of the day. Lautrec

378 THE MISFORTUNES OF THE FRENCH.

would have renewed the battle the next morning, but the
Swiss bitterly declared their determination to retire. They
would now fight only when they pleased. The French
general proposed to attack the fortress on four different
points, and offered to relieve the Swiss from the post of
danger, by placing the French men-at-arms in the front of
the battle. But they had no stomach for the enterprise,
and determined to retreat. This they executed in a manner
so disorderly that, but for the protection of the French
cavalry, they would have been cut to pieces. Their de-
parture naturally dissolved the army of De Foix. With the
flight of the Swiss to their native mountains, the greatest
portion of his force was lopt away. He could offer no
farther opposition to the enemy, and would only peril the
wretched remnant of his troops by any attempt to do so.
The lilies of France were once more driven out of Italy.

The fortunes of Francis, chiefly in consequence of the
perverse administration of his government, through the un-
worthy creatures of his pleasures, were every where unpros-
perous. Henry of England concluded a treaty with the
emperor, and against France. This was followed by a
declaration of war, and the invasion of the coasts of Nor-
mandy and Brittany by a force under the Earl of Surrey.
Even the Venetians joined the league of the emperor
against their ancient allies; and France, in Italy, was aimost
without a friend. But these events, and this prospect, did
not abate the desire of the French monarch to recover the
Milanese. Having provided for the defence of his own
kingdom, he proceeded to raise a new army for this
purpose, in defiance of the powerful confederacy which
was formed against him — a confederacy including almost
every potentate in Europe. If Francis erred and was
feeble as a politician, he was nevertheless a knight of
gallant spirit. " I know," said he, "that all Europe is band-
ed against me, but I will make head against all Europe. I
do not fear the emperor, for he has no money. I do not

THE CONSTABLE BE BOURBON. 379

fear the King of England, for my frontier is secure against
his assaults. I do not fear the Flemings ; they are notori-
ously bad soldiers. And, for Italy, I will conquer Milan in
person ! I will, in spite of all my enemies, recover every
inch of the territory of which they seek to dispossess me !"
But there wras another enemy, whom Francis did not in-
clude in the alliance against him. This was the Constable
de Bourbon, whom his own injustice, leagued with the im-
patient ambition of the other, had driven into hostility. It
was only while upon his march for the frontiers that the
discovery of his defection was made. Bourbon was a no-
bleman of great talents, a soldier of approved skill, a shrewd
politician, a man of popular attractions, against whose loy-
alty no doubts had ever been wrhispered, in whose faith all
parties had the most perfect confidence. It does not concern
us here to enquire wrhat were the particular moving causes
which led to the sacrifice, on his part, of his high character,
and the unhappy desertion of his prince arid country in the
moment of their greatest peril. It is enough for us to show
the fact, and to add, that, of the numerous enemies of France,
the Constable de Bourbon was, probably, the most dangerous.
He counselled the English to the invasion of Normandy,
treated with the Spanish emperor to a like purpose, and
effectually disarmed the suspicions of his sovereign, until
he had succeeded in making his escape from the kingdom.
Francis remembered, wrhen it was too late, the value of the
subject whom he had lost. He sent him a special messenger,
with a pardon, and an offer of the restitution of his proper-
ty, the deprivation of which, under circumstances of sup-
posed injustice, had been among the causes of Bourbon's
anger. But the answer was sternly in the negative, and we
next find him, as lieutenant-general, at the head of the eni-
peror's armies in Italy.

The discovery of Bourbon's treachery, and the invasion
of his kingdom by the English and the Germans, prevented
Francis from assuming the command of his army for the

f

380 BAYARD TAKES LODI.

recovery of the Milanese, as he had at first intended. His
unwise partiality, and the pernicious influence of the Duch-
ess d'Angouleme, induced him to confer this important
command on Bonnivet, who was, at the time of receiving
the title of generalissimo, a simple volunteer with the army.
Bonnivet, without a single requisite for the trust, unless
courage, was yet presumptuous enough to accept it. He
marched immediately toward Milan, the fortress of which
was defended by Prospero Colonna. The forces of the con-
federates were not yet assembled, and that of Colonna was
too small to oppose any decided obstacle to the arms of
France. He himself was also suffering from ill health.
But his arrangements to retard their advance, and harass
their progress, were judiciously planned; and, while he
slowly retreated before them toward Lodi, he despatched
Antonio de Leyva to keep the city of Pavia. Bonnivet
was not the soldier to cope with Colonna. Had he pushed
promptly for Milan, while the latter was taking his course
for Lodi, it is thought that the place must have fallen. But
his caution prevailed over his fortune ; and when, at length,
he reached Milan, its walls were repaired, its towers man-
ned by Colonna and other captains, and the place so well
victualled, that he was compelled to turn the siege into a
blockade. While thus employed, Bayard took Lodi, where
he had nearly captured the Duke of Mantua. He then
went to the relief of the castle of Cremona — a place which,
garrisoned by Lautrec on his expulsion from Italy, had
still continued to hold out for the French during a period
of eighteen months. Having succeeded in relieving and
strengthening the garrison, our " Good Knight" made a
demonstration upon the city ; but it had been well succored
by the Duke of Urbino; and the unfavorable weather com-
pelled him to forego his desires.

The blockade of Milan was still continued. Famine had
begun to rage in the city. But the condition of the block-
ading forces was scarcely better. They also suffered from

PROSPERO COLONNA DIES. 381

bad food, the unwholesome dampness of the encampment,
bad weather, and want of forage. Colonna harassed them
with continued skirmishes, and frequently cut off their sup-
plies. The French general proposed a truce. His object
was to retire unmolested from a position which he found
equally unpleasant and unprofitable. This the Italian com-
mander declined, knowing quite as well as himself the dis-
quieting circumstances in which his adversary was placed.
This determined Bonnivet to withdraw in the face of his
enemies. He conveyed his artillery safely across the Ti-
cino, and sent a part of his army into winter-quarters in
Piedmont, Provence, and Languedoc. The remainder
were lodged in Biagrassa and Rosat, where the provisions
were plentiful. Here he determined to remain and w7ait
the reinforcements promised him from France. This
interval was marked by the death of Prospero Colonna,
who was literally worn out in the harness. He died at the
advanced age of eighty. Adrian VI., another uncom-
promising enemy of the French, died about the same time.
He was succeeded by the Cardinal de Medici, who as-
sumed the name of Clement VII. This sovereign h-ad
quite as much at heart as his predecessor, the expulsion
of the French from Italy. But he made as little display of
his passion as he could, and, soon after his election, ex-
pressed the most ardent desires for bringing about a pacifi-
cation between France and the emperor. That, for the
present, however, was impossible. The strife was too
bitter to be appeased by words ; — the prize too precious,
in the sight of both parties, to suffer them to estimate the
blood and treasure yet to be expended in the insane strug-
gle for its attainment ; and the war continued with as
much vigor as hate and a selfish ambition could supply,
consistently with the unavoidable obstacles of climate, the
season, and occasional deficiencies in the several sinews
of war.

These sinewrs, on the part of France, were but slowrly

382 BAYARD AT REBECaUE.

furnished to her captains in Italy. The terrors of an
English and Flemish invasion at an end, Francis once
more threw himself into the vortex of dissipation and lux-
ury, from which his escape had been only momentary.
He forgot his heroic resolution to conquer his Milanese
possessions in person ; and the finances which should have
been devoted to this purpose were exhausted among his
creatures in the maddest and most licentious frivolities of
a court. Bonnivet looked in vain for the promised suc-
cor. With but few resources of his own, for a command
so important as that which had been given to his hands, he
was made momently sensible of all his deficiencies by the
increasing activity of the confederate army. Bourbon, the
traitor to his country, had now assumed the supreme
command ; and, instead of having her best general to op-
pose him, France sent her worst. The issue may be
conjectured.

It was while Bonnivet lay, hoping and dreaming, at Bia-

*

grassa, that he conceived the idea of placing Bayard in
quarters at the little village of Rebecque, with some two
hundred gendarms, and a small body of infantry under
Captain Lorges. His object in occupying this village,
which lay close to Milan, was to obtain intelligence of, and
to arrest supplies on their way to, the garrison. Almost
touching the camp of the enemy, without wall, or fosse, or
barricade, Bayard at once saw that the place could never
for a moment be secure against surprise. He was not the
man to murmur at any commission, however perilous,
which was assigned him ; but this he felt to be one in
which he could only be sacrificed, hopelessly, and possibly
under circumstances of grievous disgrace. He deemed it
his duty, therefore, to expostulate with his commander.
" My lord admiral," said he, " I know not well how this
matter may appear in your eyes, but in mine, the keeping
of this village of Rebecque, so wholly defenceless as the
place is at present, would be utterly impossible unless

BAYARD DISSATISFIED. 383

with half your army. Our enemies show themselves to be
vigilant and active, and, if they continue in this activity, it
is very certain that I shall find it hard, in such a post as
Rebecque, and with such a force as that which you assign
me, to steer clear of disgrace. I feel all this, as I well
know that if our enemies kept there a band so small as
mine, I should be sure, in some dark night, to take them
at disadvantage. Let me entreat you then, my lord, to
consider well the deficiencies and difficulties of this post
ere you send me thither."

Bonnivet was not sensible of the force of these argu-
ments. He was disposed, perhaps, to undervalue and to
slight them. The danger from the enemy's enterprise he
did not conceive, as he had none of his own. He bade
our chevalier be under no concern, as not a mouse should
stir in Milan but he should be ready to support him. Bay-
ard was silenced but not satisfied. Bonnivet promised to
send him additional troops in a few days — a promise which
he forgot the next moment ; and Bayard, true to his duty,
though greatly troubled in spirit, set off for Rebecque with
the force assigned him. He foresaw the fortune which
awaited him, and sent his mules and unnecessary baggage
into Novara, resolved to lose as little as he could by the
perverse ignorance of his superior.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

ARRIVED at this miserable village of Rebecque, Bayard,
with his usual vigilance, proceeded to enquire into its de-
fences. He found the place more accessible to an enemy
than he had supposed, and less capable of being made
secure against him. He consulted with his officers on the
subject, and found no means of providing against attack,
except by closing up his avenues with barricades. This
was done ; yet, so inadequate did this sort of defence ap-
pear, that entrance might still be effected by an enterprising
and courageous enemy, on every side. Bayard wrote
instantly to Bonnivet, describing his condition, and urging
the promised reinforcements. To this communication there
was no answer. Another and another was sent, and
equally neglected. Bayard felt that he was isolated — set
apart for sacrifice, and that his only hope of safety must
consist in his own vigilance and courage. In these he was

LLTI'ON CAPTURES A SENTINEL, 385

not likely to fail. His barricades were strengthened by all
the means in his power, and his posts were well watched
and guarded. But, with an enemy fifteen thousand strong,
within striking distance, commanded by a young and en-
terprising leader — for such was the Marquis of Pescara —
it was not possible to hope for immunity in such a position,
and with a force so feeble as that under our chevalier, let
his precautions be ever so excellent. His apprehensions
were soon to be justified. Pescara soon learned from his
spies that Rebecque was held by a very small command
under Bayard, and the desire for conquest was heightened
by an intense anxiety to overthrow and capture so re-
nowned an opponent. Bayard was to be taken, dead or
alive. It was an additional misfortune, in the case of our
knight, that he was quite indisposed, and had retired early,
on the very night which Pescara chose for his enterprise.
His indisposition was the result of anxiety and exposure.
For two nights he had not slept, having kept the watch
himself, and, until his barricades were closed, his troops,
divided into two equal portions, had gone the rounds on
alternate nights, for the better protection of the place.
Pescara went to work with great caution and deliberation.
It was first necessary to gain some certain information, not
only as to the force, but the disposition of Bayard — how
his men were distributed, and where he himself lay. He
was not the warrior to be approached in his lurking-places,
unless all the clues were in the hands of those who sought
him. The better to effect his object, the Spaniard sent a fa-
vorite soldier, named Lupon, upon this service. Lupon was
not only a person of immense physical strength, but of great
agility and adroitness. He succeeded in stealing upon
one of the French sentinels, and, securing his weapons be-
fore he could use them ; then, throwing the fellow upon
his shoulders, hurried away with him to the Spanish camp.
Fear of death, astonishment at his situation, and probably
a lurking apprehension that he was borne away by no

KK

336 THE SURPRISE.

mortal emissary, kept the poor wretch silent. He was
forced to speak in the presence of Pescara, and it was
upon his deposition that the latter planned his attack. It
is highly probable that he had his creatures also among
the villagers of Rebecque.

Pescara took the route for Rebecque, at midnight, with
an overwhelming force of six or seven thousand foot and four
or five hundred horse. The night was very dark and the
rain falling. Well aware, from his own frequent practice,
that such a night was the very best for a surprise, Bayard
gave particular instructions to his people to watch vigilant-
ly, and ordered several captains out on the guard, keeping
extra duty. They left his presence, but soon found the
night too uncomfortable, and most of them returned from
the watch, leaving this duty to a few wretched archers, who
were quite as well satisfied to drowse as their superiors.
The Spaniards, meanwhile, were on the march. The bet-
ter to distinguish one another from their foes, in the dark,
they were each made to wear a shirt over his armor. When
the cavalry had approached within a bow-shot of the village,
they were somewhat surprised at encountering 110 sentinels.
At first they apprehended that their scheme was blown, and
that Bayard had returned to Biagrassa. Such, however,
was not his good fortune. They continued their march,
and soon happened upon some of the few archers to whom
the watch had been left. These, taken by surprise, fled
without a blow, giving the alarm as they ran. Their ene-
mies were so close upon their skirts that they were slain or
captured before they gained the barriers. Bayard, who,
with an enemy near him, always slept with vantbrace and
t asses on, and with cuirass and helmet by his side, was one
of the first to catch the sound of the approaching clamor.
He leapt up instantly, and, bridling the steed that was
always kept ready saddled, was at least prepared, with
sword drawn and in full harness, to encounter the danger.
He rushed to the barriers, where he was immediately

BAYARD'S ESCAPE. 387

joined by Captain Lorges and a portion of their infantry.
Here, then, while a portion of the Spaniards were seeking
for him in the village, supposing they should find him in his
bed, an invalid, we find him fighting fiercely against their
companions. Pescara was particularly solicitous for the
one captive. Could they have taken him, the rest was easy.
They sought for him in the lodgings which were pointed
out as his, then scattered themselves abroad in search of
nhn. While their horse were thus occupied, the drums of
their infantry were heard approaching. At the sound, which
indicated an overwhelming force, Bayard felt that now or
never was the moment for escape. Addressing the captain
of infantry, he said to him, " Lorges, my friend, the game
will soon be a very unequal one. We shall hardly be able
to keep them out, and, if they pass this barrier, it is all over
with us. Do you, therefore, draw off your infantry now,
while I keep up the struggle with my gendarms. Keep
your men close, and march straight and with all speed to
Biagrassa. Heed not your baggage ; that must be aban-
doned or destroyed. There is no help for it. But save the
lives of your soldiers. I will hold out with my gendarms
to the last."

The order was obeyed. The spirited conflict which
Bayard maintained at the barriers covered the silent re-
treat of the infantry. The Spaniards, meanwhile, in their
fruitless search after their particular object, had lost precious
moments. Seeking the person of Bayard only, their cav-
alry had mostly dismounted, hurrying in small bodies from
house to house. By this time he had succeeded in getting
most of his men to horse. He maintained the struggle at
the barriers until he thought his infantry were sufficiently in
the advance, then sounding the retreat, retired slowly from
the defence, he himself, according to his custom, bringing
up the rear. The movement was most happily execute^,
so that he lost but ten men in its performance. Pescara
had not so successfully carried out his scheme as he had

388 HIS QUARREL WITH BONNIVET.

devised it. While the search was still continued in the
houses of Rebecque for our hero, he was already far upon
the road to Biagrassa.

Here he brought the first intelligence of the disaster
which his sagacity had foreseen. Bitter was his reproach
to Bonnivet, and sharp was the passage that ensued between
them. He had saved his men, but had destroyed his bag-
gage ; and this was a necessity which was not reconciled
to the fastidious sense of chivalry by which he was governed,
or by the conviction which all acknowledged, that the mas-
terly defence and retreat which he had made, under such
disadvantageous circumstances, was an increase to his
already large reputation. He gave Bonnivet to under-
stand, at the close of the interview, that, whenever the
king's service should afford him leisure, he should compel
him to give him personal satisfaction. And, but for a su-
perior providence which willed it otherwise, he would most
certainly have executed his purpose.

But events were at hand, of a character to absorb and
silence all personal regrets and reproaches. While Bonni-
vet was still vainly looking to France for succors, the im-
perial army was strengthened by a force of six thousand
Germans, sent by the Venetians. The Duke de Bourbon
was now enabled to assume the offensive. Bonnivet fell
back upon Novara, the more readily to effect a junction
with a body of twelve thousand Swiss, in two bodies, one
of which, he had intelligence, was coming in the direction
of Sessia, the other, of Bergamo. This movement prompt-
ed a corresponding one on the part of Bourbon. He im-
mediately threw his main force between Sessia and Novara,
to oppose one of these bodies, while Giovanni di Medici
crossed the Ticino to intercept the other. These movements
were successful. The French were thus cut off from their
succors, and shut up between two divisions of the imperial
army. Biagrasfa, the only strong place still in their power,
was besieged and taken by Sforza, and the plague, break-

BONNIVET YIELDS THE COMMAND TO BAYARD. 389

ing out in the town, at length made its appearance in
the army. The circle was contracting about the general
of the French, the neglect of whose monarch, and whose
own inexperience, had devoted to irremediable ruin. His
army was thinned by daily desertions, and the Swiss
absolutely refused even to attempt the passage of the Sessia.
Bonnivet determined to retire into France. But this
decision was one full of embarrassments. His enemies
were not likely to suffer the attempt to be made without
some interposition, and Bonnivet prepared for it as well as
he was able. The retreat began at daybreak. The
French general, with becoming manhood, took his place in
the rear of the march, along with the gendarms, to
receive the attacks of the Imperialists, by whom all his
movements were closely watched. They followed the retreat
with constant assaults, in all of which they had to encounter
the skill and valor of Bayard. It would be doing injustice
to withhold from Bonnivet the credit of fighting bravely
during this march of peril and exposure. He conducted
himself with great valor and ability until his arm was broken
by a musket-ball. In the first moment of pain and appre-
hension he sent for Bayard, to whom he gave charge of the
army, thus recognizing, when too late, the ability which,
at an earlier moment would have achieved conquest instead
of suffering^ defeat.

^D

" My Lord of Bayard" said he, " I pray and conjure you,
by the honor and glory of the French name, to defend the
ensigns and artillery which I give into your keeping. I con-
fide them to your valor and wisdom. You alone can save
the army."

There was a reproach, undoubtedly, but no bitterness in
the reply which Bayard made him : " I would, my lord,
that you had done me this honor on some more favorable
occasion, when our fortune was less unfriendly ; it is
now, I fear, too late. Nevertheless, happen what may,
I vow and promise to defend these ensigns so, that

KK*

BAYARD MORTALLY WOUNDED.

while I live, they shall never fall into the hands of the
enemy."

Bayard, accepting this dangerous commission, at such a
moment, is a model of devotion and patriotism. He saw
no longer in the man before him the spoiled and presump-
tuous child of fortune, unwisely placed in the station which
belonged only to better men. It was no longer the court-
ier, Bonnivet, who addressed him — it was the same man,
forgetting his own vanities in the hour of danger, and
rising into a just appreciation of the person whom he ap-
proached.

" My life is my country's," said Bayard on leaving Bon-
nivet ; " my soul I commend to God." He immediately
placed himself at the head of the men-at-arms, while the
Lord of Vendenesse took command of the artillery. In a
short time the latter was killed by a shot from an arque-
buse. The road was lined on both sides by the arquebu-
siers of the enemy. From these the missiles of lead and
stone were continually projected upon the retreating French,
while the Spanish cavalry pressed upon their heels, combated
step by step by Bayard and his gendarms. He, meanwhile,
retired slowly, keeping up a firm front and close array, and
sometimes relieving his troop by a successful charge, which
drove back the assailants to the shelter of their main body.
It was after one of these brilliant charges that he was struck
by the stone bullet of an arguebuse-a-croc, which smote him
across the loins, and completely fractured his spine. His
first exclamation was, "Jesus, Mon Dieu ! je suis mart /" —
( Oh, God ! I am slain /) In this moment of mortal agony,
he clutched the cruciform hilt of his sword, and lifting it
before his eyes, repeated a verse of the Miserere. Feel-
ing himself about to swoon, he grasped the pummel of the
saddle, and supported himself in this posture, until some
of his friends came to his assistance, and helped him to dis-
mount. At his own instance, he was placed with his back
to a tree, and his face turned in the path of the approach-

HIS CONFESSION. 391

ing enemy. His friends would have borne him away from
the melee, but he would not suffer it.

" Let me die in peace. It is all over with me. I am
mortally hurt. — I know it, and I would not, in my last mo-
ments, turn my back upon the enemy for the first time in
my life."

Hans Diesbach, a Swiss captain, offered to construct a
litter of pikes on which he might be borne with little suf-
fering, and to prevent his falling into the hands of the Span-
iards ; but, knowing how short was the time allowed him,
he entreated that this might be suffered to pass in compara-
tive repose. " Leave me thus," he said, " in quiet, that I
may make my peace with God. And let me entreat that
you will all depart, lest you be made prisoners, an event
which would greatly increase my grief. For me you can
do nothing more. Of you, my Lord of Alegre, I entreat but
that you will convey my farewell to the king, our master,
and say how deeply I deplore that I can do him no more
service. Convey my regards to my companions in arms,
and take my adieu. Farewell, my friends — and now leave
me!"

Bitter were the tears shed by the noble gentleman, and
the gallant men-at-arms whom he had so often led to victo-
ry, particularly as they were compelled to leave him, in his
dying moments, to the doubtful care of his enemies. They
would have remained with him and shared his fate or cap-
tivity, but this he would not suffer; and, with mournful
hearts and tearful eyes, they left him on the field of glory
and of death. One of his attendants, his maitre d'hotel, a
young gentlemen of Dauphiny, named Jacques Joffroi de
Milieu, in the absence of a priest, received his confession
before he went. To this faithful follower, whose bitter
tears provoked his own, he uttered himself thus : " Cease
thy complaints, my friend ; God wills that I shall leave the
world. It was by his favor only that I dwelt in it so long,
and enjoyed so many more honors and blessings than were

392 THE APPROACH OF THE ENEMY.

my due. Shall I murmur, then, that he calls me to himself?
There is but one thing which makes me loth to die. It is
the thought of evil deeds that I have done — of duties I
have left undone — of time lost which is necessary to re-
pentance. And now it is of the infinite mercy of God
that I must implore compassion. I am not without a hope
that he will hear my prayer — that he will not deal with
me after the rigor of his justice." .... Then, after a
pause, he said, "I prithee, friend Jacques, suffer them
not to remove me from this place. When I am stirred
I feel the utmost torment short of death; and that will
seize upon me right soon."

The approach of the Spaniards dispersed his companions
in arms, and he alone remained facing his enemies. The
tidings of his mortal injuries had already reached them, and
produced a profound sensation of grief among their ranks.
The foe whom they most feared, honored by their very
fears, and whom they so particularly desired to capture or
to slay, now that he could do them hurt no longer, remained
before their eyes only as the impersonation of all noble-
ness, and of the most admirable perfection in arms and
chivalry. The first person to approach the dying chevalier
was the Marquis of Pescara. " Would to God, most gentle
Lord of Bayard," said the Spanish general, " that by shed-
ding my own blood, short of death, or by abstinence and
prayer, I could save your precious life, and keep you as my
prisoner. Then should you see how highly do I honor
your exalted character and prowess. Well do I know the
justice of that speech of my countrymen, when I heard
them praise you first — ' MucJios Grisones, y pocos Bayar-
dos' — There are many grey horses, but few Bayards;
for since my first lessons in arms have I never seen
or heard mention of any knight who can match with
you in all admirable qualities. While I know that in
your death the emperor, my master, is relieved from one
most formidable adversary, yet, when I consider the

BAYARD'S REPLY TO BOURBON. 393

loss which knighthood sustains this day, I would freely
give the half that I am worth to pluck you from the
clutches of death. But since this is all in vain, I pray
to him who hath made us all in his own image, that
he will graciously vouchsafe to receive your soul unto his
mercy."

The Constable de Bourbon next made his appearance,
and was profoundly affected, like Pescara, with the ap-
proaching fate of the hero. Bending over his prostrate
person, with hands clasped, he exclaimed, with a feeling
which was unquestionably sincere,

"Alas ! Captain Bayard, that I should behold thus one
whom I have always loved and honored for his wisdom,
his virtue, and his great valor. Believe me, from my very
soul, I weep for your condition."

At these words, Bayard raised his noble gaze upon the
face of the unfaithful prince :

" Waste not your sorrows upon me, my lord, but reserve
them for yourself. I die as I have lived, an honest man, and
faithful to my sovereign. But I pity you — you whom I behold
in arms against your prince, your country, and your oath."

The constable would have justified himself by an expo-
sition of the provocations which had forced him into the
arms of Spain. He felt the want of sympathies, such as
those which a pure, honorable, and unselfish spirit, such
as that of Bayard, could bestow. But the latter was too
single-minded and too clear-headed to be deceived, even
in the moment of his mortal agony, by any subtleties of
politics. His simple rule was to sacrifice himself always —
his interests, his rights, his vanity, his ambition, to his du-
ties— and his reply to the constable was still the same. He
exhorted him to seek the earliest means and moment to
confess his errors to his prince, and to implore his forgive-
ness; closing his exhortations with a prediction, which was
fully verified in the sequel, that, neglecting to adopt this
course, his career and its close would be equally without

394 DEATH OF BAYARD.

honor. Bourbon turned away, stricken to the heart by the
dying words of a man whose stern reproaches were but
too keenly seconded by the voice of conscience, which
still struggled eagerly in his own bosom.

The Marquis of Pescara did not neglect the dying mo-
ments of our hero. Though remarkably apathetic on most
occasions, he did not now seek to disguise his sympathy.
He had a pavilion raised over the spot where Bayard lay,
evincing the most tender consideration of the pain he suffer-
ed, and not venturing to remove him. His own surgeons
attended the dying man, and he himself sat beside him till
the moment when his eyes were closed. A Spanish priest
was brought, to whom he devoutly renewed the confession
which he had tendered to his squire. His prayer on this
occasion has been preserved. " Oh, God ! my Creator
and Redeemer, \vho hast declared thyself ever ready to
receive into thy mercy and to forgive those who shall re-
turn to thee with a contrite spirit, I entreat thee, through
the death and passion of thy Son, to have mercy upon me
— to pardon my innumerable offences, which I repent with
all my heart. Alas ! my Father and Redeemer, I have
grievously offended thee my whole life long. I have been
one of the worst of sinners, and I look to thy grace and
bounty only for safety from deserved punishment. Well
I know that an hundred years spent in abstinence and
prayer upon the desert would not avail to secure me an
entrance to thy kingdom, were it not for thy infinite grace
and goodness. Be pleased, then, to regard me with that
clemency which no virtues in the creature might command.
Pass over the many faults of which I have been guilty,
and show me, instead of thy rigorous justice, thy abundant
and saving mercy."

In the utterance of this prayer he died. The attentions
and kindly consideration of his enemies did not cease with
his death. His body was embalmed, and conveyed, by the
guard which Pescara had assigned him, to a neighboring

HIS BURIAL AND MONUMENT. 395

church, where a solemn service was performed over him
during two days. The body was then delivered to his
friends and domestics, who were provided with passports
for France, and who conveyed it into Dauphiny. As the
escort which bore it approached Grenoble, the public feel-
ing displayed itself in the movements of all classes and
orders. The grief of the province was universal. The
public authorities, the noblesse, and all the people of the
city, went forth to receive it, and formed a mourning caval-
cade, by which it was borne to the church of the cathedral,
where it was received with the honors usually paid to the
remains of a sovereign. The body was then deposited in
a convent of Minims, which his uncle had founded, and
not in the church of Gr'ignion, where he had expressed a
wish to be interred. It was deposited under a great stone,
at the foot of the chancel. To the right, above a door by
which you enter the convent, is his bust in white marble,
adorned with the collar of his order. On another piece of
white marble, placed beneath the bust, is inscribed a Latin
epitaph, which contains a summary of his exploits, and of
the circumstances of his death. This monument was
raised by a private gentleman of Dauphiny — one no way
related to him — who, through a just admiration of the
fame of the hero, executed, at his own expense, wrhat
Henry IV. thought to do, and the city of Grenoble vainly
projected. The name of this gentleman, Scipion de
Pollond, lord of St. Agnin, deserved to have been put upon
the edge of the tablet which he raised.

The Chevalier Bayard died on the 30th of April, 1524.
He was but forty-eight years when he was slain, in the
full vigor of his manhood, and with his intellect, naturally
strong and clear, informed by a various experience, and
perfectly matured, without being impaired by age. What
might not have been anticipated from his farther career ]
Francis, when a captive, after the battle of Pavia, in
which he was made a prisoner by his subtle enemy,

396 HIS CHARACTER.

Charles V., thought of Bayard only as his counsellor.
That battle had never been lost, had Bayard been in the
place of D'Alencon. When Francis, in his bonds, saw no
alternative before him, but a humiliating treaty or pro-
longed imprisonment, he exclaimed to the Lord of Mont-
chener, " If the Chevalier Bayard had but survived — had
he been only near me — I should never have sunk to this.
He was worth a hundred captains. He could win the
confidence of friends, and inspired his enemies with fear.
Ah ! Bayard, had you but lived, I never had been here !"

The eulogium was just. The reader has not forgotten
the moral portrait which we sought to draw at the opening
of this history. We feel sure, making due allowances for
what belongs to the times rather than to the individual,
that nothing of our picture was overdrawn or exaggerated.
His merits, as a man and as a soldier, were equally great
and remarkable. His delicacy of soul, his genuine piety,
charity, and munificence — his utter disinterestedness, and
ardent attachment to his country — leave us nothing to re-
gret in the perfect fullness and just balance of his moral
qualities. Foibles and faults may be charged to his ac-
count, but it would be difficult to reproach him with any
vice. At all events, none of these seem to have taken
the form of habits. Intellectually, he was equal to any of
his associates, judging them, when in contact with himself,
and in the performance of similar duties. It is true that he
was never entrusted with the functions of a general officer,
where the command extended to the operations of an
army ; but that he was unequal to their performance, will
scarcely be believed by those who shall remark carefully
the promptness, the shrewdness, and the decision of his
counsels, when his opinion was demanded by his associates
or his superiors. That he never received the baton of a
marshal of France, is due rather to the fact, that he lacked
the arts of the favorite — while his native modesty held him
back from solicitation, and taught him to express himself

HIS CHARACTER. 397

always moderately in reference to his own claims. He
was not the man to boast. Of his performances and re-
sources he always spoke most humbly ; and yet, in the
moment of doubt, whose counsels were more clear, more
deep, more comprehensive, whether the interest was the
skirmish of a squad, the siege of a citadel, or the plan of
battle for a great army 1 In all the trusts confided to his
hands, we never once find him faltering — never once a
laggard — never once forgetful of his vigilance. He be-
trayed, at all times, the rare union of an enthusiastic
courage and intrepidity with a cool and deliberate wisdom,
such as might well become the general-in-chief of a great
army, upon whose movements hang the fortunes of empire.

Bayard never permitted himself to indulge in swearing,
a habit which was common during his time, and in all
times too much practised among soldiers. He never
permitted swearing in his presence where it was possible
to restrain or punish it. In rebuking this single practice,
he seemed to forget his usual sweetness of temper, and
that gentle demeanor which he sought to show to all.
Hearing two pages, on one occasion, employ the name of
the Deity with irreverence, he turned upon them with a
reprimand so sharp and fierce, as to provoke a brother
officer to wonder that he should deal so severely with so
small an offence.

"So small an offence!" exclaimed Bayard. "You can-
not mean it. That is no small offence which is the vice of
the age !"

Fierce to his enemies, he was always mild and affable to
his friends. With a profound veneration for the truly
great, and a becoming deference for all in authority, he
fawned upon none, flattered none, and was too great a
lover of truth to possess any of the expertness of the
courtier. Of noble family himself, and of noble training
according to the fashion of his time, he had no disdain of
his inferiors. The poorest soldier of his command was

398 HIS SAYINGS.

never dismounted, and needing assistance, that he did not
come to his relief. He possessed in perfection that ex-
quisite art which enables one to bestow a favor without
making the object of his bounty sensible of an obligation.
Sometimes, he would exchange a fine horse for a very poor
one, to reward a squire who had pleased him; and not
unfrequently he left a splendid garment of velvet, damask,
or satin, in lieu of a threadbare cloak. In his life, of an
hundred thousand crowns, which he received for the ran-
som of prisoners, he kept scarcely any for himself. Yet
most of his gifts were made in secret. His alms were
worthy of princes and rich noblemen. He gave marriage-
portions to an hundred orphan girls, of gentle and inferior
birth. Never sparing of his money, when any good might
be done with it, he was wont to say, " Why should we
value money, when the gorget wastes what the gauntlet
wins — employing an ancient military proverb, " Ce que le
gauntelet amasse, le gorgerin le defense."

His piety was as unostentatious as it was fervent. Al-
ways, before quitting his chamber, he recommended him-
self to God in prayer; but he preferred always that his
adoration should be made in secret. He loved and feared
his Creator in all things — never blasphemed or took the
name of his Maker in vain, and still, in all perils and neces-
sities, sought counsel of him first. His conviction that from
him and his infinite grace all manner of good proceeded,
was an habitual presence to his mind and thought. His
love for his neighbor was manifested by a thousand charac-
teristics. Of wealth he took but little account, being at his
death no wealthier than he was at his birth. When others
dwelt complacently on the treasures of the rich and pow-
erful, he turned a deaf ear ; but he was never weary of
talking about the virtuous and the brave. Riches, accord-
ing to his saying, did not often ennoble the affections.
When, as was sometimes the case, his companions reproach-
ed him for throwing away his bounty on the people of cap-

HIS PRAISE OF III* MASTERS. 301)

tured cities from whom it would be wrested by merce-
naries, his answer was, " Never mind — I do my duty. Be-
sides, this poor man may hide his money till the war is
over, and he will then be able to use it. He will then
call upon the Lord for me." Justice was his great ideal.
He was never known to uphold, even his best friend,
when equity demanded his sacrifice. He was wont to
say that the empire without justice in its government,
was to be compared only to a forest thronged with rob-
bers.

Bayard always delighted to hear mentioned the names of
those who had first taught him the art of war. He honored
his teachers always with becoming reverence, and always
spoke eagerly in their praise. He had learned the pro-
fession in a good school ; and, though he had surpassed, he
had just reason to exalt his teachers. He was wont to
say that there was no one person in whom you are oftener
deceived than in him who professes arms. A man will
play the hero in a chamber, who, before the foe, will be
timid as a maiden. He spoke with scorn of all those who
abandoned their ensigns ; and the men-at-arms that showed
themselves eager for plunder were sure to provoke his
aversion. His dislike to the arquebusiers amounted to an
antipathy which made him more reluctant to show them
mercy than any other of his foes. He is thought by some
to have had a presentiment of the implement by which he
was to fall. But an accomplished knight, relying upon
skill, strength, and individual valor, might well dislike an
engine which rendered these of little account. Like Ages-
ilaus the Spartan, who, on seeing a machine for casting
darts, called it " the grave of valor," so " it was a great
heart-sore to Bayard," according to one of the old chron-
iclers, " that a valiant man should be slain by a paltry, piti-
ful ragamuffin." His characteristics as a soldier are thus

o

summed up by the " Loyal Servant :" " He had the three
excellences of the accomplished knight — the attack of the

400 EULOGY OF HIS COMRADES.

greyhound, the wild boar's defence, and the speed, in pur-
suit, of the wolf."

In person, Bayard was tall, straight and slender. His
countenance was mild and gracious. His eyes were
black, his nose inclining to aquiline, and his complexion
fair. His painters have shown him to us with a marvelous
profusion of beard ; but we are told that, for the more
easy use of his helmet, he wore it closely shaven. In the
rude portrait which accompanies the biography of Sym-
phorien Champier, a scar is placed conspicuously beneath
his left eye; but this is, probably, a fancy sketch, as little
like him in feature, as it is rude in execution. Bayard,
though, par excellence, the "Good Knight" " sans peur et
sans reproclie" was yet " no saint," as we remember. He
left a natural daughter, named Jeanne Terrail, whose
mother was of a noble family in the Milanese. Bayard
had promised her marriage, and, doubtless, but for his
premature death, would have fulfilled his pledge. He
spared no expense in the education of the child, who was
said to inherit the virtues of her father. She was received
into the family of his brothers as their niece, and afterward
married with Francois de Bocsozel, lord of Chastelhaut.
The unhappy poet, Chastelar, who perished in consequence
of his insane passion for Mary Stuart, queen of Scotland,
was a lineal descendant of Bayard.

Our memoir may fitly conclude with the mournful apos-
trophe of his men-at-arms, as they left their dying chief
upon the field of battle, waiting for the enemy. " Ah,
treacherous fiend !" they exclaimed, apostrophizing Death
— " wherein had he, this good and noble knight, proffered
thee offence. Thou hast not been content to avenge thy-
self on him only, but on us. Thou hast stricken him that
thou may'st have us also at thy mercy. Under what shep-
herd shall we now go forth a-field ? Where is the guide
whom God will provide for us, who could so well protect
us from the foe 1 "With him we had no fear. We felt,

EULOGY OF HIS COMRADES. 401

each of us, strong as any fortress. What captain will ran-
som us from the keep of the enemy — who lift us from the
earth when we are cast down — who sustain us, like him,
in the clay of our tribulation. Cruel destroyer ! this has
ever been thy wont ! The more excellent the worth, the
more dost thou delight in its overthrow. Yet, though thou
hast deprived him of life, and we of him, as our shepherd,
know from us, oh, Death ! that thou can'st not play thy
part so cunningly as to take from him the glory he hath
won. Thy stroke which hath taken him from this life
hath but rendered his memory safe through all succeeding
ages. He shall still survive to the satisfaction and delight
of the valiant and true men that shall come hereafter !"

THE END.

DEC 1 4 1936